


Hair: Redux

by eirenical (chibi1723)



Series: Where Do I Go? FicVerse [4]
Category: Hair - MacDermot/Rado/Ragni
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Humor, Family, M/M, Meta, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-23
Updated: 2010-05-04
Packaged: 2017-10-21 04:25:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 42,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/220877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibi1723/pseuds/eirenical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fourth in the <i>Where Do I Go?</i> set -- The long-awaited premiere of Jeanie's musical is fast approaching.  Everything finally seems to be going smoothly, but nothing is ever really as simple as it appears... is it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Fandom:** Hair, the musical: 2009 Revival  
>  **Pairing:** Claude/Berger, Dionne/Hud, Cloud/Zack... and beyond that, I'm not telling. ^_~  
>  **Rating:** PG-13  
>  **Word Count:** Total -- 36,127; And oh, goodness... these did not break evenly. Shortest part is this one, at about 5600 words. Longest part is about 8700 and they range everywhere in between. O_O Sorry...  
>  **Warnings:** Slash. Not mine. Don't sue.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** Neither the musical nor the boys belong to me, if they did they'd be groping each other on sta--. *pause* *blinkblink* Huh. Look at that... they do. *eg* :D _((*coughs* For the record, "Hair" was written in 1967 by James Rado and Gerome Ragni and with music by Galt MacDermot... not in 1985 by Jeanie Ryan. Thank you very much.))_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I wrote almost 9000 words today. O_O My G-d... no wonder I'm tired. ^_^
> 
>  ** _April 23, 2010:_** Well... I've sure kept you waiting for this one long enough, haven't I? *sheepish grin* This one gave me a _lot_ of trouble, I must say. I think it was because it started feeling like this was the last piece to this "present" arc. Rest assured, though... I created a hell of a lot of loose ends with this one, so there's a lot more story to tell. ^_~

  
**Hair, Part 1**   
_by[Renee-chan](mailto:chibi1723@hotmail.com)_   


Sheila folded another shirt and tried to ignore the wide, pleading eyes staring her down from across the room. It had been easy to put the girl off last time she'd gone to New York -- it had been the middle of a school year and it was understood that she was not going to pull her offspring out of classes for a weekend jaunt up to Manhattan. This time, however, she had no such ready excuse. Schools had let out a month and a half ago and didn't start again for another few weeks. Wearily, she raised her head to meet the bright blue eyes of her eldest daughter. She sighed, "You really want to go, don't you?"

Hope started waging a war against the disappointment in her daughter's gaze. She clasped her hands together and nodded earnestly, "So much, Mom!"

It was almost over the top, that wide-eyed innocence, and Sheila _really_ didn't want to get suckered into buying it... but she knew her daughter's desire to go to New York was real enough, even if she was overplaying it. Letting out another sigh, Sheila put a hand to her head, just _certain_ she was going to regret this, "Pack enough for a week, at least three outfits appropriate for a nice dinner, nothing ripped or frayed -- for that matter, nothing you wouldn't wear to your grandmother's." The girl looked like she might protest and Sheila ran right over her, "Those are the conditions. If you don't like them, you don't have to go."

This time she did wail, "But, Mom! That eliminates most of my wardrobe!"

Really, only a teenager could turn the worm "mom" into a three syllable word... all of them four letters. Sheila frowned, "What about your school clothes? Those would be appropriate, I should think."

Throwing her hands in the air, her daughter made a disgusted noise, "I hit a growth spurt this month and outgrew a lot of it. Besides, Mom... it's _New York_. I'll get laughed at if I wear that stuff!"

Seeing the near desperation in her daughter's eyes and suddenly remembering herself at that age, Sheila ruefully shook her head, "All right, all right. Calm down. Why don't you pick out the three nice outfits, then we'll take a look at the rest of your wardrobe and see if we can reach a compromise. If we can't, we'll go shopping and buy you some new outfits. How does that sound?"

Her daughter looked like she might protest again, but seeing that unyielding steel in her mother's eyes and recognizing when pushing further would only make her lose more ground, she subsided and gave her mother a miserable nod, "Just great, Mom."

The sarcasm was so thick in those words that Sheila could have sliced it and spread it on bread. Good Lord, the girl had been bad enough before hitting adolescence. G-d help them all when she hit the full stride of her teenaged years... Raising an eyebrow as the girl started to walk past her, she said, "Say 'Thank you,' Clara."

The girl whipped around so fast her thick braid of black hair almost smacked her mother in the face. With an irritated scowl, she snarled out, "I told you, it's 'Georgie,' now." Then when she reached the door she paused, and almost as an afterthought, ground out, "Thanks."

Sheila let her posture fall into a slouch as she rested her hip against the bed. A deep, rumbling laugh from the bedroom doorway caused her to look up and sigh. Stepping away from the doorframe, her husband crossed the room and pulled her into a gentle embrace, "That didn't sound pleasant. Did you tell her she couldn't come with you, again?"

Pressing her face into her husband's chest, Sheila shook her head, "You'd think so from that reaction, wouldn't you? No... I told her she _could_ come."

Bradley blinked at her, then said, "Well.... huh. Then wouldn't beaming excitement and profuse thanks be the more appropriate reaction?"

Laughingly shoving at her husband's shoulder, Sheila stepped out of his embrace, "You expect anything that Miss Clara Georgina Kendall does to make sense? She's a teenager and she's too smart for her own good." With a snort, Sheila turned back to her packing, "I swear she's been worse since she turned fourteen."

Stepping up behind her, Brad wrapped his arms around her again, "So what you're saying is that she's becoming far too much like her mother?"

That comment earned him an elbow to the ribs, "Watch it, mister. Just because I love you doesn't mean I won't leave her behind with you." Turning slightly, she caught her husband's gaze in her periphery, "Besides, she really get along so well with me these days. Maybe that might be for the best..."

Smart man that he was, Brad held his hands up and shook his head quickly, "Oh no. You are not leaving her with me after telling her she can go with you. No way. I'd rather face a horde of sign-waving, liberal Democrats."

Sheila make a scoffing noise, "You know... for a silver-tongued politician, you make enough social gaffes at home to fill a warehouse. Do keep in mind that you _married_ one of those sign-waving, liberal Democrats, though goodness only knows _why_."

The silence that abruptly fell behind her caused Sheila to turn and raise an eyebrow. Brad was standing there, tapping a finger against his chin. Finally he shrugged and commented philosophically, "It seemed like a good idea at the time?"

Before Sheila could ready her next salvo, her daughter stepped -- or rather, _stomped_ would be a more appropriate term -- back into the room, "My clothes are laid out, oh powerful fashion Nazi. Would you care to inspect them, now?"

Brad frowned, "Clara..."

Rounding on her father, she stamped a foot, "How many times do I have to tell you guys? It's Georgie! It's _been_ Georgie for months. My friends all get it. Jenny and Ben don't seem to have a problem either -- and neither one of them is even 10, yet! Why can't you both keep it straight?"

Seeing that Brad was a half-step away from being pushed into grounding their eldest child for disrespect and not wanting to deal with this argument -- _again_ \-- the day before she left for New York, Sheila put a hand on each of their shoulders, "That's enough! Both of you!" Once she had their attention, she continued, "Brad, now is not the time to discuss it, but our daughter has the right to use whichever part of her name she sees fit. We may have given it to her, but it's hers, now, to do with as she likes." Ignoring his spluttering protests, Sheila turned to her daughter and gave her a stern frown, "As for you, Clara Georgina, you will remember that we are your parents and we _did_ give you that name... and thus we can call you by any part of it that _we_ see fit. Is that understood?"

When both parties looked away and took on annoyed sulks, Sheila considered her job done. Patting her daughter on the shoulder, she gentled her voice, "Why don't you go to your room and wait for me? I'll be along in a minute."

Gaze and spirits lifting, her daughter's eyes took on a wicked gleam, "Are you and Dad gonna--"

Brad lifted a hand, pointed at the door and roared, " **Out** , Clara! Now!"

Raising her hands in mock defense, the girl make an exaggeration of sneaking out the door, "OK, OK... sheesh. Forget I asked..."

Once she was gone, it was all Sheila could do to hold in the giggles. Really... the girl was a bit much sometimes, but she couldn't help but love her all the more for it. She was just drawn to those trouble-making types. It was what had initially drawn her to Berger all those years ago. A warm glow filled her at that thought. It had been so long since thoughts of her youth hadn't brought her pain... the joy and novelty of it hadn't yet worn off, even a year later.

Somewhere above her, her husband grumped out, "It's not funny."

Raising laughing blue eyes to meet those of her husband, Sheila let her smile spread wide, "Oh, yes... it actually is, Brad." Twining her arms around her husband's neck and planting a small kiss on his frowning lips, Sheila added, "It's such a small thing, Brad... Can't you just run with it until she grows out of it?"

Sighing, he pulled her up against him, "But Sheila... Do you know how it sounds to introduce my daughter as 'Georgie?' My mother and father will have conniptions when they find out. You _know_ they will. I'd be willing to compromise on 'Gina' if 'Clara' no longer suits, but she isn't willing to see _reason_."

Shaking her head, Sheila said, "It isn't about finding a name that is socially acceptable." She leaned up and pressed her forehead to his, "Brad... it's about letting her know that we'll accept her no matter what. It's about letting her feel safe about engaging in this small act of rebellion, now... so she won't feel the need to indulge in a bigger one, later."

Brad pulled his head back and scoffed, "What do you think she'd going to do? Drop out of school? Start doing drugs? Commit acts of political terrorism?"

Face paling slightly, Sheila stepped away from her husband, "Bradley, I think sometimes you forget my background. I and my friends did _all_ of those things and my blood runs through her veins. So, yes... that's _exactly_ what I'm afraid of. Is letting her pick her own nickname really so awful in comparison?"

Sheila allowed him a moment of silence to collect his thoughts, then turned back to face him and raised an eyebrow. He sighed, "No... you're right, Sheila. I... I'll try."

Finally relaxing into a smile, Sheila stepped back into her husband's arms, "And while we're away this week, I'll talk to her about at least using 'Clara' around your family in the hopes of not getting you in trouble, all right?"

Smiling along with her, Brad tightened his arms around her, "You've got yourself a deal, my lovely Left-Wing Activist."

Sheila delicately lifted her nose into the air and sniffed, "That's _lobbyist_ , dear. The word 'activist' has such bad connotations these days."

With a laughing growl, he then bent her backwards and proceeded to do exactly what his daughter had accused him of wanting to do.

  


* * *

Sheila stared at the girl sitting across from her and sighed. Georgie had been staring out that window with her headphones jammed over her ears for the last two hours, ever since they'd gotten settled on the train. With as desperate as she'd been to go on this trip, Sheila thought she'd have acted a little happier about the actuality of getting to go. But, no. Why should it be that easy? Hell, she'd even caved in on allowing her to bring some of her more... interesting... outfits. She just didn't understand it.

Thirty minutes later, finally having enough of the silence and knowing they needed to talk before they arrived at Penn Station, Sheila leaned forward and tapped her daughter on the knee. Georgie's eyes slid sideways from the window to glance at her mother, then rolled and returned to gazing out at the scenery.

Sheila's eyes flashed and she reached out to tap her daughter again. This time, Georgie turned to meet her gaze fully before giving her attention back to the window.

 _Damn it all to Hell!_ Sheila started to silently fume, _I have had **enough** of teenage melodramatics. I sincerely hope that Jenny isn't this bad when she reaches her teens. If she is, I'll never survive it._ Knowing that what she was about to do would provoke a less than positive reaction, Sheila reached out and plucked the headphones from her daughter's ears.

Now it was Georgie's turn for her eyes to flash in anger as she reached to take back her headphones. Sheila just held up a finger and shook her head, "Young lady, you can talk to me now and then get these back for the rest of the ride or you can forfeit them for the rest of the trip. Your choice."

Grumbling, her daughter slouched down in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest, "Fine. What do you want to talk about, Mom?"

Sheila could feel a sure headache coming on but refused to raise a hand to rub at her temples. Rule number one: don't show weakness in front of an enemy. She didn't like to think of her daughter in those terms, but during these brief dominance clashes they'd been having more and more frequently, she sure as hell _felt_ like she should. Finally she sighed, "I just want to know what has you in such a bad mood, Georgie. I agreed to let you come with me. I even agreed to let you bring most of the clothes you wanted. So, _what is the problem?_ "

She didn't think it was possible for her daughter to slouch any further than she already had without falling off the seat, but somehow she did. Her answer, when it finally came, was mumbled, "It's not you." Taking a deep breath, she looked up and met her mother's eyes, her own shining with misery, "I'm still mad at Dad."

This time Sheila did lift a hand to rub at her head, "This is about your name again, isn't it?"

Georgie pushed herself back up on the seat, "The name is a symbol, Mom. And like everything else, it's like he doesn't get it. No... it's worse. It's like he doesn't even want to _try_. He just wants me to be this picture-perfect debutante of a daughter... and that isn't _me_ , Mom. A 'Clara' likes dressing up in those ridiculous, frilly dresses. 'Georgie' prefers her old, ripped jeans. A 'Clara' would like going to those big parties that Grandmother and Grandfather hold. 'Georgie' would rather go to a Motley Crue concert. A 'Clara' would be thrilled to be swept off her feet by some dashing, well-connected, young Republican and settle down into the life of a politician's wife where she'll be pampered and taken care of and never do anything of more substance than invite the right ladies to tea." Slightly out of breath and eyes blazing, Georgie leaned forward and said earnestly, " _I_ want something different... I want something _more_. That's why I can't be a 'Clara' anymore... That's why I need to be a 'Georgie'."

Looking into the bright blue eyes of her daughter, so filled with vibrant passion, Sheila felt the flash of a kindred spirit. How well she understood what Georgie was saying... _G-d_ , how she understood it. It was like looking at herself twenty years ago. And yet... in a way, it wasn't like that at all. Sheila's passion, her rebellion, had always had a purpose. She was always fighting _for_ something. Georgie... she was all over the place. A rebel without a cause.

It pained her, sometimes, watching her daughter struggle. She knew the girl didn't quite fit -- not with the family, not with her school, not even among her friends. Maybe that was just her age, or lack thereof, speaking. Maybe it was lack of experience in the world. It was hard to say. But Sheila got the constant impression, watching her daughter, that it was like she was a square peg trying to fit into a round hole. She couldn't change herself to fit the surroundings -- it would kill something inside her to try -- but she'd finally clued in to the idea that she could change the surroundings to fit herself. And that was the key to why she was so desperate to change her name... and why she was so desperate to go to New York. Sheila had the distinct feeling that Georgie had latched on to the idea that those might be the surroundings where she finally _would_ fit. She almost hoped so... because these days, she felt like her daughter was drifting away and becoming more and more incomprehensible. In a lot of ways, it was starting to feel like those last few years she'd spent with Berger, when there had been this gaping chasm between them that she couldn't bridge without Claude. Only... there was no Claude here to help her bridge the distance. There was only her. And just like before, she knew she wasn't enough... and that thought scared her witless, because she didn't want to lose her daughter the way she'd lost Berger.

Lifting a hand to her daughter's cheek, Sheila gave her an encouraging smile, "I know you do, Georgie. I understand that much, at least. And despite what your father says and thinks, it's _your_ life, sweetie. Like your name, you can do with it what you choose. That may not make things easy between you and your father, but you have to know that you have _my_ support... don't you?"

Georgie gave her a weak smile, "I may not always act like it, Mom, but yeah... I do know that." Making a frustrated noise, she turned to look out the window again. Sheila was ready to cede the conversation as over, when Georgie spoke again, half to herself, "The thing is... I don't know what I _do_ want. I know I don't fit, I know I'm not like other people... but I don't know where to look to find where I _should_ fit. I don't know if there even _is_ anywhere where I'll fit, anywhere where I won't feel like I have to translate myself just to be understood by everyone else. And I get so _mad_ about it, sometimes... I can't help lashing out." Finally, she looked back over to meet Sheila's gaze, blue eyes pleading, "I don't even know why I'm like this, so I don't know what to do to _fix_ it. What do I do, Mom?"

Sheila shifted over onto the other seat and pulled her daughter against her in a gentle embrace, "I wish I had an answer, sweetheart. I really do. Growing up is hard work. All you can do, sometimes, is duck your head down and press on into the wind... and hope there's a sunny day on the other side of the storm."

That last earned her a snort, "Jesus, Mom. You've got a platitude for everything, don't you? Where'd you get that one?"

Giving her daughter a playful shove, Sheila reclaimed her own seat, "I'll have you know that I made it up on the spot. No old Chinese wisdom involved."

Blue eyes dancing as she reached for her headphones, Georgie answered, "Suuuure, Mom. I believe you."

Relinquishing her daughter's headphones, Sheila settled back and opened her book again, "Believe what you like, it's the truth." Giving her daughter one last smile, she added, "Next time you need to talk, Georgie... just talk to me, OK? I can't help you if I don't even know that there's a problem."

Georgie met her eyes for one deeply measuring moment, then nodded and pulled the headphones back over her ears. Sheila sighed as she returned to her book. One week. That should be enough time to fully get to the bottom of what was bothering her daughter. She just prayed that Jeanie didn't have any more surprises planned like she had the last time. No matter how well it had all turned out, Sheila really didn't think her heart was up for that kind of exercise again.

  


* * *

Crissy turned her head and tucked it into Woof's shoulder, trying to hold in her giggles. Really, she shouldn't laugh. It was really understandable... but sometimes Kelly was just too much like an eager puppy dog to not be amused by it. Woof slid his arm out from underneath her head to wrap it around her shoulders and give her a gentle squeeze. Finally getting her laughter under control, Crissy slid her arms around him to return the gesture. She tilted her head upwards to meet Woof's equally laughing hazel eyes and said in a strangled voice, "Does she ever run out of energy?"

Woof let out a small moan and shook his head, "Goodness and light help me, Crissy. No, she doesn't. Thank G-d, Eileen is more sedate or I don't think I'd survive having sole custody of them both."

Unable to keep an entirely straight face, Crissy turned away to find the wayward child again. She had gotten back over to the central arrivals board and was bouncing on her toes, hands clasped behind her and practically vibrating with excitement. Shaking her head, Crissy turned back to look up at Woof, "How the Hell did Claude manage having her in two classes every day?"

Woof gave her one last squeeze before releasing her, face taking on a sheepish look, "Well... he only had her for two classes for one semester... and from what I understand, it wasn't _really_ bad until that last month..."

Crissy lightly socked her friend in the shoulder, "Yeah, right. Did you buy him something nice for all that trouble, at least?"

Eyes widening, Woof said, "But Crissy... you don't buy the teachers presents in high school. That usually stops sometime in middle school."

Expression stretching into a teasing grin, Crissy said, "Uh-huh. I know you better than that. What did you buy him?"

To her everlasting delight, Woof's cheeks stained a light pink at her insistent questions. Crossing his arms over his chest defensively, he answered primly, "I'd rather not say."

Crissy's eyebrows climbed up into her hairline, "I don't suppose that your gift would have anything to do with why we didn't see or hear from him or Berger for two weeks after school let out, would it?"

Woof started to sweat, then finally ducked his head and whispered, "How about we just say that it might have had something to do with it and leave it at that. Please?"

This time Crissy couldn't hold in her laughter, "Oh, Woof! Just tell me that, whatever it was, you didn't have Kelly deliver it at school!"

The blush overtook his entire face and traveled up his ears this time, "Only part of it... and that part was nothing embarrassing, so it's OK." When Crissy opened her mouth to ask another question, Woof ran right over her with a panicked, "Claude was grateful and it seemed like a good idea at the time and Idon'twanttotalkaboutitanymore!"

By then, Woof's raised voice had called Kelly's attention to them and she wandered back over, face filled with mortified curiosity. Inching over to Crissy, she asked quietly, "Aunt Crissy...? What did you do to him? I thought only _I_ made him sound like that..."

Crissy was unable to answer due to the fit of giggles she was currently engaging in. In the quiet recesses of her mind, though, she started plotting how to get the answer she wanted. Woof clearly wasn't going to tell her anything, Claude would be even harder to get an answer out of... but Berger... _Berger_ would be only too happy to share. Evil glint mostly hidden in her eyes, she got herself under control just in time to hear Woof say...

"Don't worry about it, Kelly." Then with inspiration born of desperation, Woof abruptly shifted the topic, "So, is her train still on time?"

Knowing that she'd been brushed off and not any happier about it than usual, Kelly crossed her arms over her chest and assumed a grumpy expression, "Yeah, it's still on time. Should be here in a couple of minutes." Then in the kind of lightning fast mood change that only a female teenager can manage, her eyes brightened again, "Did she really march on Washington, Dad? And did she really get _arrested_? And did she and Uncle Claude and Uncle Berger _really_ \--"

With a pained expression, Woof reached out and planted a hand over his daughter's mouth, "Kelly... there are some questions that one should not ask in the middle of a crowded train station."

Eyes full of stymied mischief, Kelly merely nodded. He could feel the grin behind his hand. Sighing in defeat, he dropped his hand and said, "Yes, she marched on Washington. Yes, she was arrested once. And yes, she and Claude and Berger were once in a relationship together." He didn't want to know if that wasn't the question she'd been planning to ask about the three of them. Kelly was getting to that age when her natural curiosity was starting to extend to questions about sex and Woof found himself dreading the eventual conversation. It wasn't that he was shy about sex. It wasn't even that he was embarrassed to talk to his daughter about it. It was just that she always managed to find some insight, some way of looking at a subject that was so completely _skewed_ from the normal, that he was dreading the kinds of questions she would think of to ask. He'd pondered foisting the responsibility off on Berger more than once. At least the other man would be harder to shock. Only the dread of what Berger might manage to _teach_ his daughter during that discussion kept him from asking the favor.

Kelly laughed, "OK, Dad. I'll stop. I'm just _excited_! It isn't every day that you get to meet someone who's done so many interesting things in her life, you know."

Crissy snorted, "Dear G-d, Woof. You've created a monster. Sheila will be thrilled." At Woof's raised eyebrow, Crissy elaborated, "You do remember how much she loved to hear herself talk..."

At that, Woof laughed, "And you really think that she'll be able to get a word in edgewise around Kelly?"

"O-ho! That sounds like a challenge to me. You willing to put your money where your mouth is, Woof?" she answered.

Eyes sparking with mischief, Woof loomed over her and smiled, "I'd put Kelly's ability to talk your ear off over Sheila's _any_ day. You are _on_."

Crissy smirked, "We'll discuss the stakes later, then."

With a wide smile, Woof swept her a bow, "At the lady's pleasure."

Kelly, meanwhile, was staring from one adult to the other with a miffed expression on her face, "I get the distinct impression that I've just been insulted..."

A laughing female voice answered from behind her, "It's been a while, but I'd have to agree... and I don't think you were the only one." Crissy and Woof spun around at the same moment and let out equally happy squeals before burying the newcomer in warm hugs and more than a few kisses. When she finally emerged from underneath the pair, her smile was beaming, "But it's so good to see you guys that I'm willing to overlook it!" Reaching over to give Woof another tight hug, she added, "Woof, I know we didn't always see eye to eye in the past... but I am really glad they found you. I've missed you."

Woof cradled the blond woman close and planted a gentle kiss on top of her head, "I've missed you, too, Sheila. I'm really sorry I fell out of touch."

When Sheila leaned back, her smile was soft and a little sad, " _I_ certainly can't take you to task for that, Woof. You're not the only one who fell out of touch." Pulling the other two adults into another tight embrace, she said fiercely, "But we're not going to let it happen again. Not _ever_. Right?" Crissy and Woof nodded, eyes determined as they let go.

Once they were apart again, Woof took a minute to take in Sheila's appearance. She really hadn't changed much. Her hair was pulled up into an elegant coif, but it was still that long, golden blond that he remembered. She wore slacks, a tailored blouse and pearl earrings... but he could see a smaller version of her tremendous peace symbol still hanging around her neck. She was different, sure -- they all were -- but in all the ways that counted, she hadn't changed a bit.

And that was when he noticed her... there was a girl, about Kelly's age, standing silent in Sheila's shadow. She wore an old, scuffed pair of Doc Martens, and some decoratively ripped jeans. She had an oversized Quiet Riot t-shirt sliding off one shoulder and a black sweatshirt tied around her waist. Eyes traveling upwards, he took in her somewhat sullen expression, the pair of keen blue eyes that didn't look like they missed much and her veritable mane of curly, black hair. Catching him looking, the girl pulled her headphones down from her ears and smirked, then blew a bubble with her gum right at him. It would be fair to say that Woof liked her on the spot.

Sheila, catching the looks trading back and forth, rolled her eyes heavenward in what was probably a plea for patience. Woof recognized the look -- Kelly made him do it often enough. She then turned to face the two of them and made introductions, "Woof, Crissy, this is my eldest daughter, Cla--" At the sudden flashing anger in the girl's blue eyes, Sheila hastily backpedaled, "Georgie! My daughter, Georgie." Giving the girl a sheepish grin, she added, "Sorry, sorry... I wasn't paying attention, just a slip of the tongue."

The girl rolled her eyes and shrugged, "Yeah, Mom. Whatever." She then indicated the last unintroduced member of their entourage with a flick of her chin, "Who's the chick?"

Sheila's eyes hardened and she turned to her daughter with her hands on her hips, "Are you going out of your way to be obnoxious or is this just going to be your default setting from now on?"

The girl shrugged and Woof caught the glint of mischief in those blue eyes. Oh for goodness' sake... the girl was baiting Sheila deliberately! He'd seen Berger and Claude do it often enough and recognized the signs. She wasn't really upset... she was just trying to make her _mother_ upset! Not sure whether the realization made him want to laugh or hide his head and whimper, Woof stepped in, "Ladies! I believe you're talking about my daughter." He waved Kelly over and the girl flounced up to stand in front of him with a bright smile.

Before Woof could say anything more, Kelly extended her hand to Sheila's daughter and gave her a beaming smile as they shook, "Kelly Donovan, pleasure to meet you, Georgie. You know, that's a really interesting name. Is it short for something?" Eyes flicking down, then back up -- Woof recognized that one, too... Kelly looking for ammunition -- she continued, an almost too-bright smile on her face and a wickedly competitive gleam in her eyes, "Love your shoes, too. Very cool. And I see you like Quiet Riot? I'm more of a Twisted Sister fan, myself, but my dad's got a lot of really neat albums at the store if you want to check it out, later."

Then, without missing a beat or giving the other girl another thought, she turned to Sheila and pounced. Wrapping her arm securely around the older woman's she started to lead her towards the station exit. Woof could just make out her voice as it drifted back through the crowds, "...heard _so_ much about you! Did you really march on Washington? What was it _like_? Did you meet Martin Luther King, Jr.? And I heard you got _arrested_! Were you scared in jail? And..."

Woof slowly turned back towards Crissy and lifted an eyebrow. Crissy managed to keep a straight face for all of two seconds before breaking up into laughter. Smiling proudly, Woof said, "As noted, we'll discuss payment later." Then he turned back towards Georgie and let his face fall into an apologetic look, "She... uh... she takes a little getting used to. Sorry about that."

Far from looking upset, however, Sheila's daughter looked... oh dear Lord. He knew _that_ look, too. It was the look that Berger had worn on that night so long ago... the night he'd met Claude. The girl's eyes flashed as she answered, "No sweat. It's all good..." Eyes sliding sideways to meet his, she let her mouth stretch into a gleefully feral grin, "Actually, I think this vacation just got even more interesting... don't you?" Then she lifted her backpack onto her shoulder and sauntered after her mother.

Woof just gaped. Crissy inched around to stand in front of him, eyes wide and a little shell-shocked. Taking in Woof's expression, she stepped close and wrapped her arms around him again, "You know what, Woof? For once... I don't want to know what you just saw."

Shuddering slightly, Woof shook his head, "No, Crissy... you really don't. And I'm going to forget I saw it. There are some things that a father just isn't meant to know." And with that last cryptic statement, he gathered up the pair's last two bags and followed the others towards the exit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:**
> 
> No chibi-silliness, too tired... and in too much of a rush. :-P
> 
> Questions, comments, asparagus?
> 
>  _Coming Soon:_ Jeanie ropes everyone she can into helping prepare for the evening's party, wanting everything to be spot-on perfect and not caring who she exhausts in the process. Then everyone finally arrives... and general chaos ensues.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _April 24, 2010:_** Hee hee hee. ^_^ I'm evil. That is all.

  
**Hair, Part 2**   
_by[Renee-chan](mailto:chibi1723@hotmail.com)_   


Woof threw himself down on the couch with a quiet whimper. Who'd have thought that following two fourteen-year-old girls around the city for one afternoon would be so draining? For goodness' sake, it had only been a few hours... Then again, as taken as Kelly had been with Sheila, she'd been even more so with her daughter, Georgie. The two girls had gotten along like a house on fire. And those two working in tandem... Jesus, he was exhausted.

Crissy dropped down onto the couch next to him then rolled her head to look at him. After a moment, she asked quietly, "Do you think what we did was wrong?"

Without hesitation, he answered, "Absolutely not. Sheila can handle them on her own for a while. And it's only fair since it was _her_ decision to bring her daughter in the first place."

Crissy laughed, "So speaks the voice of experience?"

Turning sideways, Woof raised an eyebrow, "You'd rather I kept them with us? Crissy, no one in their right mind would want to supervise those two at their first sleepover. Especially with the sheer amount of sugar they consumed after dinner." Smiling wryly he added, "Which was not my fault either, for the record."

Out of the periphery of his vision, Woof saw a pair of steaming mugs approaching the couch. Reaching out a grateful hand and seeing Crissy mirror the action beside him, he smiled up at their deliverer, "Thanks, Jeanie. You're a life saver."

Smiling gently down at the pair currently sacked out on her couch she settled herself in the arm chair, "I'm not the one who deserves your thanks." At Crissy's questioning look, she elaborated, "It's Claude and Zack who deserve it for rearranging their own evening to go look after Eileen for you."

Crissy raised her mug in salute and smiled, "That was definitely an unexpected kindness." Eyes then taking on a more serious cast, she asked, "Have they figured out what they're going to do come fall?"

Raising a hand to rub at her temple and shook her head, "No, they haven't." Looking up at her two friends, Jeanie sighed, "We only know two things for fact... and that those two things are going to make making their relationship work very difficult. One: Zack is going away to school to pursue a career in law enforcement. And, two: Claude is staying in New York to pursue a career in acting, G-d help us all."

Woof frowned, "I thought you convinced him to go to college...?"

Throwing her hands up in the air, Jeanie answered, "Well, that was before this latest stunt of his, wasn't it? I sure wasn't going to tell him to turn down the part since he got it fair and square. That would be career suicide."

Crissy laughed, "Not to mention, you're selfishly glad that he _did_ get the part because you know he'll do it justice."

Jeanie crossed her arms over her chest and scowled, "That isn't the point."

Wrinkling her nose in an impish grin, Crissy answered with twinkling eyes, "Maybe not... but it's at least a corollary."

Jeanie sighed, then slumped back in her chair, "Well, at least I've convinced him to take a few classes at NYU so he can work towards a degree part-time. That way if the whole acting thing doesn't pan out, he'll at least have something to fall back on."

Now Woof joined in the good-natured teasing, "All of which adds up to he's going to be living here with you for the next however-many-years because he won't be able to afford his own apartment, right?"

Sarcastic-edged smile firmly in place, Jeanie answered, "Got it in one." She paused, then the smile softened, "Really, though... I don't mind." At Woof and Crissy's disbelieving looks, she continued, "Really, truly. It's been just him and me for so long... I don't think I'm really ready to let him go. So I guess I'm selfishly glad for that, too. I don't know what I'll do when it really _is_ time for him to leave."

Reaching out, Woof and Crissy each took one of her hands to give them a gentle squeeze. Crissy was the one who said it, "Well, you'll still have us, you know."

Gratefully squeezing back, Jeanie gave them both a beaming smile, "I do know that. I appreciate you saying it, though."

After a moment of silent communion, Woof's smile twitched, "Personally, I don't see the big deal. As much as I love my kids -- and I do -- I can't wait for them to move into their own places so I can have mine to myself, again."

As they leaned back from each other, Jeanie laughed, "Yeah, well, I'm willing to grant you that if I'd had a Kelly instead of a Claude, I might feel the same way. Just _watching_ that girl makes me tired." Eyes sparkling, Jeanie asked, "Speaking of which, how did she end up spending the night in Sheila's hotel room? I bet Sheila was _thrilled_ about that..."

Crissy burst out laughing as Woof grimaced. Cradling his coffee mug close, the grimace then slid into a pout. Crissy patted his knee, "Sorry, Woof... Claude still does that better than you do, though you come close." Turning back towards Jeanie, the smaller woman said, "Well, apparently, Sheila has a daughter that's about Kelly's age. And if you think Kelly's scary... holy crap, Kelly and Georgie together? _Much_ scarier."

Jeanie joined in the laughter, "So you just foisted the pair of them off on Sheila for the night? Woof, that's _mean_." At Woof's sly smile, Jeanie laughed harder and concluded, "But, I like it."

Once they'd all sobered, Jeanie slapped her hands on her knees and stood up, "But since you're both here, you're going to help me. I still need to figure out how I'm going to fit eight adults and seven kids into this tiny apartment of mine tomorrow evening."

Crissy groaned and covered her head with one of the couch pillows, "I'm too tired to think, much less do anything more strenuous than that. Count me _out_."

Woof smiled and shook his head, "No worries, we'll figure it out without you." With a wicked grin, he said, "Hey! We could put the kids out on the fire escape!"

At that comment, Crissy uncovered her head, a disbelieving look on her face. Slowly she said, "I'm going to assume you were kidding... but just in case you weren't, I think I changed my mind. Goodness only knows what you two would come up with as a solution if left to your own devices."

Beaming smile firmly in place, Jeanie leaned forward, "Excellent! I figure with all three of us working together we ought to be able to get this place cleaned up, the seating arrangements figured out and all the cooking done by the time everyone gets here tomorrow... maybe even an hour or two before!" Ignoring the gaping, horrified looks now firmly on her friends' faces, Jeanie grabbed their hands and hauled them to their feet, "Come on, guys! We have a lot to do and very little time to do it in. Let the games begin!"

  


* * *

Claude carefully shifted the platter of sandwiches onto his left arm so he could raise his right to knock on the door. It might have been easier to have Berger do it, but he was loaded down with his own fair share of refreshments. However, when Claude had his hand halfway up to the door, the tray wobbled and he immediately had to drop his hand back down to steady it. Scowling at the door, he made an irritated noise, "For goodness' sake, this should _not_ be so hard."

Berger made a frustrated noise of his own and nudged Claude out of the way, "Here, let me." He raised his right foot and kicked the door three times in rapid succession, then yelled, "Wake the hell up in there! This shit is heavy!"

Claude stared at the other man in disbelief for a second, then dissolved into laughter, "Why didn't _I_ think of that?"

Grinning broadly, Berger leaned his head against Claude's shoulder, "Because I'm a genius!" Eyes taking on a teasing glint, he added, "'I'm as smart as any of you, maybe even smarter,' remember?"

Letting out a small groan, Claude let his head lean over to touch Berger's, "I knew I shouldn't have pointed that part out to you. You've been insufferably smug ever since."

Smile widening even further, Berger pressed their lips together in a chaste kiss, "Aw, you know you love me."

Eyes softening, Claude answered, "I really do, you know. Even when you're being a jerk." He then joined their lips together in a somewhat less chaste kiss.

That was when Crissy opened the door. She gaped at the pair for a moment, then threw her hands up in frustration, "Damn it, why do I never have a camera when I need one?"

The two broke apart instantly, Claude smiling sheepishly and Berger's grin assuming "cat that ate the canary and then washed it down with a whole bowl of cream" proportions. He planted a small peck of a kiss on Crissy's cheek, then brushed past her and yelled, "Jeanie, we brought the food! Where do you want it?"

Claude followed more sedately, an apologetic look on his face, "Sorry about that, Crissy."

The diminutive woman just smiled angelically and said, "Don't apologize, just make sure you're more obliging next time I _do_ have a camera."

A wildfire blush raced across Claude's face as he chased Crissy into the kitchen, "You... Crissy... You're joking, aren't you? Crissy?"

Woof paused in lifting his coffee cup to his mouth as the two scuttled by. Blinking confusedly, he finally stated primly, "I don't want to know. Whatever it is... I just don't want to know."

Berger laughed as he deposited the soda bottles and chips on the kitchen table, "Probably a wise choice, my man." Then he did a double take, "Wait a second... What are you and Crissy doing here, anyway? I thought you weren't coming by until later."

At that, Crissy and Claude joined them, companionable arms slung around each other. Crissy made a face, "Yeah, that was the original plan. The short version? Kelly spent the night with Sheila and Georgie and Zack and Cloud stayed at Woof's to watch Eileen. Then Woof and I made the mistake of coming here and have spent the better part of last night and this morning helping Jeanie cook and clean."

Claude's eyebrows climbed up into his hairline, "Well... that's unfortunate." Then he paused, "Wait a minute, who's Georgie? I thought Sheila's husband's name was Brad."

Woof moaned and buried his face back in his coffee. Crissy let out a pained laugh, "I think we'll save Georgie for later, guys. Let's just say that she's Sheila's oldest daughter and leave it at that."

Expecting a snarky answer from his lover, Claude was surprised to find him silent. He nudged the other man, "Berger? What's wrong?"

Berger swallowed hard, an indescribable look on his face, "She... Sheila named her first child Georgie?"

It took a moment for comprehension to sink in. When it did, Claude released Crissy and walked over to wrap his arms around Berger. Leaning in close, he said quietly, "She loved you, Berger. She still did, even after what you put her through in those last years. Does it really surprise you that she named her first child after you?"

That was when Jeanie joined the conversation, "Actually... she named her after both of you." At the twinned looks of shock she received, she ducked her gaze, "If I remember correctly, the girl's full name is Clara Georgina." As two pairs of eyebrows rose, she laughed softly, "Well, her husband's family is old Republican money. She wanted to make sure she picked family names so it wouldn't be so conspicuous that she was naming her child after her two former lovers."

Berger snorted, "And in spite of that, she calls the kid 'Georgie?' I'll bet her husband's family _loves_ that."

Woof lifted his eyes back up from his coffee mug and smirked, "I gather that wasn't the initial plan. Apparently the 'Georgie' thing is still fairly new. They were arguing over it when they got off the train yesterday." Eyes twinkling, he added, "I gotta say, Banana-Berger, Georgie's almost as good at baiting her mother as you always were. And she does it with such finesse!"

Green eyes met hazel for a few silent moments, then both men broke up into laughter. When they'd finally calmed, Berger gave them all a broad grin, "A kid after my own heart. I can't wait to meet her!"

Jeanie grinned, "Well, you'll get a chance in a couple of hours. In the meantime, I think we'll allow a shift change. Woof, Crissy, why don't you guys go on home, shower, change, pick up kids, do whatever you have to do, then come on back later? Claude and Berger can stay here and help me finish up."

Claude winced a small smile, "What if we had other plans for the afternoon?"

Jeanie raised an eyebrow and pinned the taller man with the "mom stare." As Claude began to sweat under the scrutiny, Jeanie calmly asked, "What makes you think that any part of that suggestion was a choice?"

Letting out a weak laugh, Claude answered, "Of course... how silly of me. Jeanie, we'd be happy to help you finish getting ready for tonight." When Berger looked like he was about to open his mouth and say something they'd both regret, Claude clapped a hand over said mouth and concluded, "Really, we'd be absolutely thrilled. OK?"

Jeanie beamed a smile at him, "I knew I could count on you boys!" Then she cheerfully turned around and headed back into the kitchen.

Woof clapped a hand on Claude's shoulder as he deposited his coffee mug on the table. Crissy was already at the front door, her purse on her shoulder and an anxious look on her face. Woof smiled at them and waved as he joined her, "Have fun, guys! It's been a pleasure knowing you!" Then the pair beat a hasty retreat out the door.

Holding on to each other as though they were about to meet their doom, Claude and Berger turned towards the kitchen. Jeanie came back out at that moment and handed them a few rags and some furniture polish, "If you'd start with the furniture, I'll finish up in the kitchen. Then when you're done, I'll tell you where I want to move the furniture to to maximize the space we'll have. Hud and Dionne are bringing by some extra chairs and a few floor pillows when they come, so we'll need to make some room." Giving them each a peck on the cheek, she then walked briskly back into the kitchen.

Berger turned to Claude, already opening his mouth to protest, when Claude just shook his head, "Oh, hell no, Berger. You want to object, you go right ahead... but if you do, you act on your own. I am _not_ facing the 'disappointed mom look' from Jeanie. I've seen it often enough in my life, I don't need it from her, too." Berger thought about it for a moment, then wordlessly joined his lover in starting to polish the furniture.

  


* * *

Four hours later, Claude and Berger were sprawled out on Jeanie's couch, already ready to call it a night though it was only five o'clock. Claude was curled up against his lover's side, idly twirling one of his dark curls and fighting the urge to close his eyes. In a shell-shocked voice, he commented, "You know... I never realized how much cleaning you had to do to get one little apartment ready for company."

Berger tightened his arms around him and lightly kissed his forehead, "Well, with any luck, we'll never have to go through this, again. Ever."

That was the moment someone knocked on the door. Claude whimpered, not wanting to even think about moving. Berger hunched down on the couch and whispered, "Maybe if we're really quiet... they'll go away."

Jeanie yelled from her bedroom, "That should be Hud, Dionne and the kids! I'm not fit for company just yet, so can one of you open the door?"

Claude made a small moue of unhappiness and attempted to bury himself behind Berger on the couch. The other man laughed, pulled him close for one more kiss, then said reassuringly, "I got it, I got it. You stay right there and rest for a while, OK?" Claude's nakedly grateful look was all the reward Berger needed for that kindness.

Gently extracting himself from his lover's hold, Berger rose from the couch and made his way to the apartment door. He could practically feel the two children vibrating with energy and excitement on the other side of it. And, as usual, Berger found that it was contagious. There was something about the exuberance of children... he couldn't help but respond to it in kind. And the kids _loved_ it. So when he flung open the door and Shane and Monica saw their "Uncle" Berger on the other side, they immediately squealed with joy and launched themselves into his arms.

Berger let out a quiet "oof" and stumbled backwards a pace, then looked up into the smiling faces of Hud and Dionne and said, "Holy crap, what are you feeding these two? They're getting _heavy_." Then he smiled and pretended to drop Shane, catching him again and easing him down the rest of the way before he could actually hit the floor.

The boy laughed and immediately latched back onto him, hugging him tightly, before stepping back and proclaiming, "I'm allowed to get big, now! Dad said so! I'm almost twelve, Uncle Berger!"

Settling Monica more firmly against his hip as she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, Berger raised an eyebrow, "Is that so? Now, who said you were allowed to go and get that old? Twelve?" He scoffed, "That's practically _ancient_ , man."

Monica leaned back and frowned, confusion and suspicion in her deep brown eyes, "But Uncle Berger, if Shane's practically ancient, what does that make _you_? You're a _lot_ older than he is!" Then she paused and her eyes widened comically as she turned to look at her father, "And Dad's even older than _you_ are!"

Claude and Dionne desperately tried to hide their laughter, but at the twinned looks of dismay on their respective partners' faces, they couldn't quite manage it. Berger, as expected, recovered first, "Well, naturally... We're _decrepit_!" Then he proceeded to make scary monster faces at them. The two kids squealed with delight and Monica struggled to get down. Once she was, she and her brother took off running with Berger hot on their heels.

Once they were out of sight, Claude and Dionne collapsed into helpless fits of laughter. Claude eventually calmed down and wiped his eyes on his sleeve, "Oh man... that was priceless." He smiled up at the other two from his sprawled out position on the couch, "It's moments like these that make me glad that you have kids -- our recent conversation notwithstanding, they keep us all young." Then he stood up and gave both of the other Tribe members a hug.

Dionne laughed as she hugged back, an evil twinkle in her eyes, "You know... if you and Berger ever want the experience of parenthood, you could have them for a week... or a month... or two... really, you'd be welcome to them!"

At the thought of having a 10-year-old and a nearly-12-year-old running around their apartment for more than an afternoon, Claude's eyes promptly glazed. He stepped back and slowly shook his head, "Oh, no. You are not foisting them off on me _that_ easily. I'm perfectly happy being 'Uncle Claude' who gets to play with them, spoil them rotten and then _send them home_ at the end of the night."

Dionne shrugged and smiled knowingly, "Suit yourself, then. You just let us know if you change your mind."

As the two kids and Berger came stampeding back through the living room and then ran up the hallway to go terrify Jeanie, Claude let out a laughing snort and said, dryly, "Not likely."

Dionne's laughter ringing in their ears, Claude and Hud headed back down the stairs to Hud's car to grab the remaining bridge chairs and the floor pillows. By the time they made it back up, Woof, Crissy, Cloud, Zack and Eileen were there, too. Eileen was sitting close to where Monica was playing with a few puzzles that Jeanie had pulled out for them, eyes paying rapt attention to everything the older girl was doing. She was only a year younger than Dionne's daughter, but ever since they'd met, she had looked up to her like another older sister. In a way, she looked up to her more than she did her own sister. Maybe it was because they were so much closer in age and temperament.

Looking around the room, he almost laughed when he saw that Shane had Berger all to himself and was apparently thrilled to be able to monopolize the kids' favorite honorary uncle. What was even more hysterical was that at the moment, Berger looked like nothing more than an oversized kid himself. He and Shane were clustered together on the floor playing with Shane's Matchbox cars, making loud racing sounds and causing some impressive 20 car pile-ups in the corner as they crashed the small cars into the walls.

Claude and Hud handed over the chairs and pillows to Cloud and Zack. As they did so, Claude asked quietly, "Shouldn't Sheila be here by now?"

From across the room, Crissy choked on her soda as she suddenly started laughing, "Claude, she's got two teenaged girls with her and only one bathroom. Do you have any idea how long it's probably taking her to get them all ready and out the door?"

  


* * *

The answer to that question turned out to be "almost an hour." The adults were just starting to toss around the idea of calling the hotel to check on Sheila and the girls when they finally arrived. Being the one closest at the time, Berger again got the distinction of being the one to answer the door. He got only a brief glimpse of Sheila's relieved face before she whimpered out, "Oh, thank G-d," and collapsed into his arms, burying said face in his shirt. He was so busy comforting the distraught woman that he didn't even noticed as the two girls slunk past him into the apartment.

Woof wasn't so distracted. Just before they could slip past him, he cleared his throat and said in a stern voice, "Ladies... Do you have some explaining to do?" The two in question stopped, looked at each other, tilted their heads sideways, shrugged, then shook their heads, all in unison. Woof snorted in disbelief, "Kelly, give me a little more credit than that. What exactly did you do to Sheila to get her into this condition?"

Kelly let out a dramatic sigh before turning to her father, "Nothing, Dad, really. It was just that Georgie and I found that we had a lot to talk about... so we did. And then today I took them down to see the store and to some of my favorite places around the city and then we went to the park and then we--"

Woof held up a hand to stop the flow of words, a pained wince spread across his features, "Never mind. I think I get it. Did you let her get _any_ rest?"

The two girls look at each other again, then shrugged. This time Georgie was the one who answered, "Eh. Sleeping's over-rated."

Sheila, meanwhile, was still clutching tightly at Berger and making a variety of sounds that were somewhere between a laugh and a sob. Woof let out a heavy sigh as he walked over and put a hand on Sheila's shoulder. Once he had her attention, he said, "I am _so_ sorry, Sheila. I should have warned you... I really should have. That wasn't kind of me. How about I take them both off your hands for the night and let you catch up on that lost sleep?"

Sheila's eyes brightened and she transferred her stranglehold from Berger to Woof, muttering, "Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou..."

Woof merely patted her back, his eyes those of a man condemned, "You're welcome, Sheila. It's my pleasure."

On her way past them to get to the appetizers, Georgie snorted, "Not likely, dude, but I'll accept the invite anyway." She then tossed him a wicked grin and grabbed a handful of potato chips out of the bowl.

At that point, Berger untangled himself from the group by the door and made his way over to where Sheila's daughter was settling on the loveseat. At his approach, she turned to watch him and raised an eyebrow. He just smiled in return and asked, "Georgie?"

She raised the other eyebrow, "Yeah. Who's asking?"

Laughing, he answered, "If you believe the rumors, I'm the one you got the name from." He then extended a hand in introduction, "George Berger. But, unlike you, I don't dig 'George' too much. Just Berger will get the job done."

Having finally regained her equilibrium, Sheila stepped away from Woof and walked over to wrap her arm around Berger's. There was a wicked smile on her face as she piped in, "So will Banana-Berger."

At Georgie's confused look, Sheila laughed and turned to look over at Jeanie with a raised eyebrow. Jeanie's eyes started to twinkle as she too walked over to take Berger's other arm, "No, no, no. It's _Karma_ -Berger. Get it right, Sheila."

Crissy giggled in response and started bouncing on her toes, "Oo, oo! This one's me!" Then she paused and her eyes widened, "Oh shoot... what was it? Oh, that's right! Unzipped-Berger!"

It was cute, really -- as much as he didn't normally care about what was socially acceptable, they'd all found that Berger got awfully squeamish about what was said around children younger than twelve. So was it anyone's fault that they felt the need to tease him mercilessly about it? They all gathered closer, smirking as Berger attempted to head off the rest with a panicked look on his face, "Guys... there are little kids in the room, aren't there? Maybe we should... I don't know... save this for later? Like when they're asleep?"

A wicked grin on her face at Berger's discomfort, Dionne just shook her head before plunging right on in, "Not on your life, Pull-'em-Down-Berger!"

Hud pulled his wife in for a tight hug and smirked, "No, no, sweetie, don't you remember? It's Take-'em-Off-Berger!"

A loud "Eh-hem!" caused the rest of the group to drop into silence as they all turned to look towards the sound. Claude slowly stood up and stalked across the room to stand by Berger's side. Berger's eyes took on a grateful shine as he wrapped his arms around the taller man's waist, certain he was here to put an end to the teasing, "Claudio!"

Claude leaned over and kissed his temple before turning back to those assembled with a wicked grin. At the sight of that grin, however, Berger again began to sweat, "Claudio...?"

Claude merely draped an arm around Berger's shoulders and shook his head sadly, "I'm disappointed in you all. You have such shoddy memories. It's sad, really..." Then turning back towards Berger to give him the full force of that wicked grin, he said, "He told me on the night we met, all those years ago, that it isn't _any_ of those. Now, what was it again...?" He paused with a mock-contemplative look on his face before he leaned his forehead against Berger's and chuckled, "Oh, that's right... Sexy-Berger... wasn't it?"

As the rest of the Tribe broke up into laughter, Berger finally caved to the inevitable and pulled Claude up against him with a mock-growl, "I'll give you _sexy_ , you... you... _you_." He then bent the taller man backwards and engaged him in a no-holds-barred, needs-a-private-room-now kind of kiss.

As the other adults whooped and hollered around them, Georgie couldn't contain her own grin. Leaning over to Kelly, who had just joined her, she asked delightedly, "Do they do this sort of thing often?"

Kelly laughed and rolled her eyes as she stole one of Georgie's potato chips, "You should have been there the time Uncle Berger, Aunt Jeanie, Aunt Crissy and my dad got us thrown out of a restaurant."

"Kelly, you didn't tell her about that, yet?"

At that shout, the girls looked up and the rest of the room fell silent. Kelly blinked and shook her head. Crissy laughed as she and Jeanie each draped themselves on one arm of the loveseat, "Well, we'll have to rectify that, then!" She then waved a hand at Jeanie and beamed, "Please, after you!" Jeanie laughed and started to tell the story. And when that one was finished, there was another... and another... and another.

  


* * *

Georgie sat at the kitchen table, where she'd been hiding from the rest of the group for the last twenty minutes, idly pushing her glass of soda back and forth between her hands. She'd been having fun, sure, but being around so many people she didn't really know had gotten a little trying. She could almost feel it as the leash she used to keep her wilder impulses in check had started to fray. Not wanting to embarrass herself in front of so many people that she actually found herself wanting to impress, retreat had seemed like the safer option. It gave her time to get herself back under control. It gave her time to think.

Tonight had been... it had been eye-opening to say the least. More often than not, her mother had cut off a story just as it was getting really interesting, but even with that, Georgie had learned plenty. It was no wonder, now, why her mother was so tolerant of her eccentricities -- hell, if she believed the stories, she wasn't even _half_ as bad as Sheila had been when she was younger. Not yet, anyway.

Georgie snickered. She couldn't even imagine what her father's reaction would be if she brought home two young men and told him she was sleeping with both... at the same time. It was beyond strange, though, to think of her mother that way. Pausing, she tilted her head in contemplation. Well, at least she could say unequivocally that her mother had good taste. They might be older now, but no girl in her right mind could deny that Claude and Berger were still a pair of hotties. And together... Letting out a blissful sigh, Georgie secretly wondered how her mother could have ever let them go. What it must have been like to watch them with each other...

"Is this a private tune-out or can anyone join?"

Turning to see who had spoken, Georgie almost blushed when she identified the speaker. Instead she found a smirking grin somewhere and planted it firmly on her face to cover her embarrassment, "No sweat, Banana-Berger. Last I checked, it's a free country. You can sit wherever you want."

The older man smiled down at her and reached out to ruffle her hair. Surprisingly, she found she didn't mind. There was such open affection in the gesture and she couldn't pick up any condescension underneath it. Berger was just such a carefree kind of guy, it was hard to take offense. Besides, she got the feeling that he, like Georgie, was the kind of person that if he really wanted to tick you off... there'd be no doubt that that was his intention. Once he sat down, he tilted his seat back against the wall and laced his hands behind his head, smiling benignly.

As the minutes started to tick by with Berger doing nothing more than sitting in that chair and grinning at her, Georgie had the sudden uncomfortable realization that he might be content to sit at the table for hours waiting for her to talk. She'd done it to her parents and friends often enough herself and was not entirely comfortable being on the other end of the waiting game. After about ten minutes had passed, she found herself feeling the completely unusual desire to squirm and just knew she was going to break first. Just before she could, however, Berger caught her eye and smirked, then deliberately lowered the front of his chair to the ground and folded his hands in front of him on the table, "So, I hear you got in a bit of a row with your parents over this name of ours."

At that, Georgie _did_ squirm. She then mumbled, "It's kind of complicated. You wouldn't understand."

Berger waited until she looked up again, then let his smile grow teeth, "Try me."

Looking into those earnest, jade green eyes, Georgie felt the touch of a kindred spirit and suddenly knew why he had sought her out in the kitchen. He probably had wanted to talk to her... but that wasn't all of it. Even though these people were his dearest and closest friends and had probably handled the worst that he had ever dished out... he didn't want to do or say anything that would get anyone upset. Not tonight. Not when it was the first time they'd all been together since Claude had been drafted in '67. So, he was in the kitchen because he was repairing his _own_ fraying leash... just like she was. It was odd, looking into the eyes of an adult and suddenly knowing that they looked at the world from the same skewed viewpoint that you did. Meeting those eyes and seeing the empathy in them, she slowly nodded, "OK... maybe you would."

Over the next few minutes, she recounted and elaborated on the discussion she and her mother had had on the train. It was liberating, speaking those words and seeing the echo of her own feelings and understanding in another pair of eyes. In spite of herself, Georgie found that she was relaxing, comfortable with her mother's old boyfriend in a way she hadn't ever been with anyone else. Almost better than that, though, was that she could sense that same sense of relaxation within _him_.

Once they exhausted that particular topic, Georgie found herself casting around for something else to say, not wanting the conversation to end. Seeing Berger similarly looking for another topic to drift to warmed her heart and she suddenly knew what she had to ask about. Letting her mouth stretch into a wicked smirk, she said, "OK, Banana-Berger. You. Claude. My mom. Spill."

Eyes sparking gleefully at the challenge, Berger leaned forward, expression eager, "Well, I met your mom about a half a year before I met Claude. I was 16 and going into my junior year of high school. She was a couple years older, 18, I think, and was getting ready to take some classes at Jersey City State College. She was saving up money to transfer to NYU in the spring..." Eyes taking on a distant, daydreamy look, Berger continued recounting the story while Georgie listened in rapt attention.

Once he'd finished that story, she convinced him to tell her about the night he'd met Claude. If the story of his meeting her mother had been your typical boy meets girl at the shore and falls in lust, his meeting Claude was the total opposite. It was almost a fairy tale creation, full of mysticism and predestination. It sent shivers down her spine.

Just as she was about to talk him into yet another story, they were interrupted. Her mother paused in the kitchen doorway, staring at the pair of them for a moment, before finally speaking, "So this is where you two ran off to. The rest of us just realized you were missing."

Another voice spoke up from behind Sheila, full of warm affection, "That's not true. I knew you'd left." Georgie felt her face heat a bit at the gentle, loving look Claude sent Berger's way as he spoke, "I always know when you're gone."

Turning back to look at Berger, she caught an even more heated look coming from him, in spite of the almost flippant words with which he answered, "Yeah... you always were clingy like that, Claudio."

And oh, _G-d_ , the sheer overwhelming _heat_ between the two of them! You could roast marshmallows in it. It wasn't until Berger snorted out a laugh and her mother groaned that she realized that she'd spoken those last words out loud. Claude stared at her for a moment, then just shook his head in resignation, "Looks like you finally found someone with the same 30 second limit that you have, Berger."

Embarrassed as she was that she'd said something like that in _spite_ of having taken the time to get herself back under control, all Georgie could think to say in response was, "Huh?"

Berger reached across the table and patted her hand, "Don't worry about it, Georgie. It's just an old joke." At her curious look, he elaborated, "Claudio, here, is always telling me that I can't seem to be serious for more than 30 seconds." Smirking, he said, "So, he was just implying that you have the same inability to remain serious that I do. You'll note, _I_ don't think that's a character flaw."

Sheila made a scoffing noise as she crossed her arms over her chest, " _You_ wouldn't."

Before the mild disagreement could erupt into something more violent, Claude deftly stepped between the two, "OK, OK, enough you two. It's getting late and we're all tired. Sheila, why don't you say good night to Berger and your daughter like you came in here to do so we can all leave? You have to be back here bright and early, after all, and I'm sure Woof wants to get Eileen home and tuck her into bed."

Grumbling good-naturedly, Sheila nonetheless did as suggested. After hugging her daughter, she met her eyes squarely, "You'll be good while you're over at Woof's, right?" At Georgie's fuming look, she held up her hands, "After last night, it's a legitimate question! I _would_ like to be able to come back here and visit again sometime this century."

Her desire to lash back in response abruptly dissipated as Berger started laughing behind her. She turned to look back at him with a sense of hurt betrayal. In response, he shrugged, "Sorry, but she's got a point." As Georgie's expression slid into a pout, Berger wagged a finger at her, "Uh-uh. I _know_ these tricks. Not only does she have a point, but you _know_ she has a point. So don't act all hurt about it. Just 'Yes, mom' her like a good kid and then you can go on about your business and do whatever you want. No extra drama needed."

Sheila looked like she was torn between being grateful and being horrified. Finally she spluttered, "Good grief, Banana-Berger! With friends like you..."

Berger just gave her a wide grin as he stood up from the table, "Your choice, Sheila. You're the one who OK'd the whole 'forgive and forget' thing. It's a little late to take it back, now..." He then flicked her a salute and sauntered past her into the living room.

There was silence for a moment, then Georgie grinned widely, pronounced, "Mom, I _like_ him!" and bounced out after him.

Sheila met Claude's eyes for a moment and just whimpered, "Jesus, Claude. What the Hell have I done?" Claude pulled her into a tight hug and just cradled her close, wishing he could think of something comforting to say, and knowing that there _was_ no such thing in this circumstance. The genie's bottle had been opened and they'd all just have to deal with the fall-out as best they could. With a sense of fatalism, the two followed Georgie and Berger back into the living room to say their good nights.

Once everyone had left, Cloud turned to his mother and arched an eyebrow, "You didn't tell her." It wasn't a question. There was no way Sheila would have left looking as happy and relaxed as she had if his mother had told her about the musical.

Jeanie slumped, "No... I didn't have the heart. Everyone was having such a good time and she was so exhausted when she got here..."

Face taking on a disbelieving look, Cloud said, "But Mom, the premiere is tomorrow night! You're running out of time to discuss it with her!"

She winced, "I know, I know. She's coming back tomorrow morning so we can talk before I have to be at the theatre."

"Cutting it a little close there, aren't we?" was Cloud's dry reply.

Jeanie rolled her eyes and lightly slapped him on the shoulder, "Either way, it's my problem, not yours. You have bigger things to worry about." Turning to look at Zack, who had remained meekly quiet through the whole exchange, she added, "Would you just get him to bed already? I need him out of my hair for a little while."

Zack coughed politely into his hand and just raised an eyebrow at her before turning to remark to Cloud, "Have I ever mentioned how much I adore your mother?"

As Cloud started to snicker, Jeanie's eyes went comically wide and she waved her hands frantically, "That is _not_ what I meant!" As the two started heading up the hallway, she yelled after them, "He needs to _sleep_ tonight, damn it!" At the answering laughter, she shook her head and yelled back, "Fine, fine... just don't stay up too late!"

Both boys turned at the door to Cloud's bedroom and gave her broad smirks, then in unison said, "We won't!" and fled into the privacy of the other room.

Jeanie fought to keep the smile off her face but didn't quite manage it. It was good, that moment of laughter, because tomorrow... boy, oh boy. If she'd read tonight correctly, telling Sheila about the show was going to be the smallest problem they all faced.

  


* * *

Claude watched Berger as he moved silently around their bedroom, ostensibly getting ready for bed. Watching him, though... something was off. He'd gotten his shirt off, then opened the drawer that contained his pajamas... then he'd closed it again. Then he'd wandered into the bathroom to brush his teeth... and come back out holding the toothbrush to go open the drawer again. Once he'd done that, he put the toothbrush down on the dresser and said he was going to the kitchen to get a glass of water. By the time he came back without the water, Claude had worked himself into a state of mild panic. He hadn't seen his partner this scattered since he'd initially gotten sober. He had a feeling that he knew what this was about, but for once, was too terrified of saying the wrong thing to say _any_ thing.

Finally Berger shook his head and climbed under the covers. Now, Claude did say something, worry evident in his voice, "Berger... you still have your jeans on."

Berger looked at him uncomprehendingly for a moment before cursing, flinging back the covers and sitting up. Bracing his elbows on his knees, he dropped his head into his hands and buried his hands in his hair. Quietly and intensely, he said just one word, " **Fuck**."

Claude sat down next to him, hesitantly raising a hand to rub circles around his lover's back, "To quote a man I love... Do you want to talk about it?"

Berger snorted, then rolled his eyes to look up at him from under the fall of his hair. His response was just as snarky as Claude had expected, "And to quote a man _I_ love... No, I really don't."

In spite of expecting it, Claude winced at the bite in those words. Hand stilling in its gentle rubbing, he sighed, "Well, if I may quote you again, love... 'If you need to run, don't run away... run to _me_ ,' right?" Sliding his hand around Berger to pull him close, Claude pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, "I think I know what you're running from, but I'd rather hear it from you."

Berger let out a choked laugh and dropped his head to his knees, arms crossing behind it as though for protection, "This is so fucked up."

Letting his hand resume it's comforting circles, Claude leaned close and said quietly, but intensely, " _Tell_ me."

Sighing heavily, Berger raised his head to stare straight ahead, "I'm sorry, Claudio... G-d, I'm so sorry."

Claude could almost feel his eyebrow twitching at that, "Oh, for goodness' sake, Berger, what the hell do you have to be sorry about?"

Abruptly, Berger turned to face him and caught the other man's hands in his own, intense green eyes boring into shocked brown ones, "I know you push me off every time we have this non-conversation, but this time I need to hear the truth from you, OK?" At Claude's silent nod, Berger let out a breath, then continued, "Claude... do you regret not having kids of your own? I mean, looking back on it, do you regret that no one's going to carry on your name? Your legacy?" Eyes wide and upset, he said, "There's going to be nothing of you to go forward into the next generation. After you're gone, that's it. There's nothing left of you in the gene pool." He gripped Claude's hands tighter and voice low and anguished, concluded, "Doesn't that scare you? The thought of a world where there's nothing left of Claude Hooper Bukowski? Because to be frank, it terrifies _me_."

Claude sighed. There it was. Somehow, he'd known they would eventually come back to this, and it was no real surprise that it had happened tonight. Lifting a hand to cup Berger's cheek, he said, "I know it does, love. But in answer to your question... No. You see, I may not have biological children, but in a way, the children I _teach_ are mine -- at least for the purposes of what you're asking. Every one of them carries a piece of me forward into the future. And then there's Cloud. He may not be mine by birth, but he's thought of me as his spiritual father his whole life. Now that we've met, that feeling has only intensified. So, in every way that counts, he _is_ my son." Rubbing his thumb gently across Berger's cheek, Claude smiled, "Do you see? There's my legacy. And it's enough. It's always been enough."

Berger tore himself away and started pacing around the room, hands once again buried in his hair. Claude also rose, watching his lover as he struggled to put into words what was bothering him. Finally Berger stopped, turned and said quietly, "But there should be more. The world needs people like you, Claude. It doesn't need people like me."

At those words, Claude's eyes blazed. Berger actually took a step back from the ferocity in the other man's face. In response, Claude took a step forward, hands clenched, "Berger, if I _ever_ hear you say something like that again, I swear to G-d, I will beat the ever-living shit out of you."

Berger's mouth dropped open in shock and in a sudden reversal of roles, it was Claude who used the opportunity to take advantage. Grabbing Berger's face in both hands, he joined their lips together and plunged his tongue into the other man's mouth, insistently laying claim to every inch. There was nothing gentle in that kiss -- Berger could practically feel the other man's anger pulsing in every sweep of his tongue. He hadn't meant to make Claude angry... shit, he never set out to make people angry, it just happened sometimes. And apparently something he'd said had set Claude off in a _major_ way.

Just as Berger was starting to let himself enjoy the unexpectedly pleasant result of his blunder and relax from the tight knot of tension he'd been wound in since dinner, Claude reared his head back from him, separating their lips. It left him feeling vaguely unsatisfied, adrift... uncertain. Claude touched his forehead to Berger's and spoke, voice hoarse with desire... and something more, " _I_ need you. I have _always_ needed you. And the world needs you, too, George Berger. It needs people _like_ you. Because without people like you, we stagnate. You're the ones that push us forwards. You're the ones who drive us to create. You're the ones that encourage us to look outside of the staid and logical to build whole worlds of new ideas. Without people like you, we'd never have come out of the caves... we'd never have flown. So, I don't want to hear you say things like that -- things that belittle who and what you are. You're special and valuable in your own way, Berger, and just because it doesn't jive with everyone else's way, doesn't make it any less important. OK?"

Huffing out a soft laugh at his partner's vehemence on his behalf, Berger nodded, "OK, Claudio. I guess I take it back."

Claude smiled and leaned back, "OK, then. Now, do you want to tell me the rest or are you gonna close down on me?"

At the question, Berger's eyes shuttered and ducked away. Claude sighed, but nodded in understanding, "That's what I thought." Placing a small kiss on Berger's forehead, he stepped away, "It's OK, Berger. You take whatever time you need, and when you're ready to talk, I'll still be here." A thousand words still unsaid between them, the two finally crawled into bed and went to sleep, on some level each wishing that tomorrow would never come... because when it did, everything would change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:**
> 
> Claude: O_O Oh my.
> 
> Berger: O_O Indeed.
> 
> R-chan: *smirk*
> 
> Questions, comments, watermelon?
> 
>  _Coming Soon:_ The day of the premiere has arrived and Jeanie finally tells Sheila why she's really been invited to New York. Everyone deals with the stress of the day in their own way and we find out that Georgie and Kelly aren't quite so scary if you know how to handle them. And fortunately for Sheila... Woof apparently does.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the fic today. Still tired from yesterday. O_O Good tired, though. ^_^ Except for the part where after getting home at 2 AM... my cat kept me up until 6. *sweatdrop* Oh? Who's that sleeping the sleep of the purely innocent beside me as I type? Why, yes! That _would_ be my cat. Thanks for noticing. -.-;;;
> 
>  ** _April 25, 2010:_** And in this segment, we observe the elusive "Woof" in his home environment of the "Howling Moon," (Yes, that would be his music store. ^_~), and many uncomfortable truths are shared. *waggles eyebrows* Yes, this is a tease -- the premiere doesn't actually start until Chapter 4. ^_^

  
**Hair, Part 3**   
_by[Renee-chan](mailto:chibi1723@hotmail.com)_   


Jeanie opened the door to her apartment with a relieved sigh, "Thanks for getting here so quickly, guys. Normally I wouldn't mind sitting with her for three hours while she has hysterics, but I just don't have time today. I have a million things I need to do!" She then glanced nervously over her shoulder at the other blonde slowly rocking herself on the couch, her arms wrapped around her stomach.

Claude simply sighed and patted her on the shoulder, "Not a problem, Jeanie. I had a feeling things would fall out this way. Why don't you head out and we'll lock up when we leave, OK?"

Giving Claude and Berger a grateful smile and a kiss each on the cheek, Jeanie grabbed her pocketbook and hightailed it out of the apartment. Berger, drawn to the sight of an upset Sheila like a moth to a flame, made his way over to the couch and settled in beside her, leaning against her for support. Sheila slowly turned her head to the side to take in the new additions to the room, then let out a slightly hysterical giggle, "Oh G-d... she _would_ call you, wouldn't she?"

Claude also made his way over to the couch and sat down on Sheila's other side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, "If it's any consolation, we reacted about the same way when she told us."

The stunned woman turned her head to look at Claude in disbelief, "Then why the hell are you so calm about it, now??"

Claude shook his head and laughed, "You forget, Sheila. We've had two months to get used to the idea. That changes things a little. And in the grand scheme of things... is this really such a big deal?"

Sheila practically jumped off the couch in a sudden flurry of nervous energy, then started pacing and wringing her hands together, "Jesus, Claude... it might be. My husband's a politician. Not only is he a politician, he's a _Republican_. Something like this... something that brings my past to light in such a public venue... it could ruin him."

Berger snorted, "Wait a second. Let me get this straight. You went from me and Claudio... to a _Republican_? What the hell were you smoking when you made _that_ decision, Sheila?"

Rounding on him, Sheila clenched her fists, "I didn't have much choice, did I?" She then paused, going back over what she'd said, then made a negating motion with her hands as though to say, "No, never mind. Scratch that." She walked back over to the couch and knelt down in front of Berger, hands resting gently on his knees, "Banana-Berger... at a time when I most needed comfort, he was good to me. At a time when I desperately needed someone to be strong for me... he was strong. And at a time when I needed someone to pick up the load that I could no longer carry, he shouldered that burden without complaint. I know it doesn't make sense, but it worked for us. It still does." Letting a small smile stretch the corners of her lips upwards, she added, "As long as we don't discuss politics at home, that is."

Leaning back into the couch cushions, arms crossed over his chest, Berger grumped, "Yeah, well I still don't really like it."

Claude threaded a hand through Berger's hair, gently running it down his neck to rest on his shoulder, "It's not your choice, Berger. It's Sheila's. And if she says she's happy... of all people, who are we to judge?"

Caught between the two people he'd always cared most about in this world, Berger let out a dramatic sigh and threw his hands in the air, "Fine, whatever. You're right. I'm sorry."

Sheila leaned back on her heels and frowned, "Well, _that_ sure sounded sincere."

Rising from the couch to pace the room a few times himself, Berger ignored that sarcastic comment. Claude inched forward on the couch, keeping one eye on his lover as he spoke to Sheila, "Sheila, you'll have to forgive him. Last night... last night was hard on him and I don't think he's quite over it, yet. So, just try to cut him a little slack, OK?"

Sheila shifted herself back up to sit beside Claude on the couch. She watched Berger silently for a moment, watching him pace to one side of the room to fiddle with a painting on the wall, then pace back to the other side to turn the knobs on the TV back and forth, all the while muttering quietly under his breath about G-d only knew what. Her voice was sad with her next words, "He's... he's not really better, is he, Claude? He seemed to be at first, but he isn't. He's still not quite sane..."

Claude sighed, shaking his head, "It's not that cut and dry, Sheila. He was _always_ like this to some extent... a little off from everyone else. The drugs and all those years on the street just amplified his natural tendencies to fall out of touch with reality. Most days... most days, he's fine. You'd never know anything was wrong. Other days... it's like he never left the streets. We're not there, today, thank G-d... but he's been teetering on the edge since last night. He's holding on, but only just barely. All this drama on top of it? It's just bad timing, all right?"

Sheila swallowed hard and nodded, "I think I get it." At Claude's doubtful look, she elaborated, "Georgie's like that sometimes, too. Like she's skewed a few degrees off from normal. She's not nearly this bad, but I've seen her do her own version of this, too -- where she'll retreat from everyone for a few minutes, an hour... sometimes even a whole day, just to get her head back in order. She's a bright kid -- a _very_ bright kid -- but some things are harder for her than for others, you know?"

At that, Berger wandered back over and kicked a foot at the couch a few times. Claude caught at the hand not jammed deep into his jeans pocket to give it a reassuring squeeze. Berger gave him a grateful smile, then ducked his gaze again. Still not quite looking at Sheila, he asked under his breath, "Does she write?"

Eyes narrowed in confusion, Sheila said, "I... Berger, I don't know. I mean, I know she _can_... I think I'm not sure what you're asking."

Making a frustrated noise, Berger blew his hair up out of his face, then pulled his other hand out of his pocket to make a vague gesture in the air, "You know... _writing_... like stories or a journal."

Looking to Claude for guidance and finding no help forthcoming, Sheila could only shrug in response, "I don't know, Berger. I've never asked."

Kicking at the couch again, Berger pulled his hand out of Claude's grip and shoved both of his hands back into his pockets. Taking a deep breath, he finally raised his gaze to meet Sheila's, "Find out. If she does... it helps, sometimes."

Frowning, Sheila said, "Berger... you don't write. Not like that, anyway."

Smiling a melancholy little smile, Berger shook his head, "No... I don't. Not anymore." At the look of disbelief on Sheila's face, the smile slipped away and he hunched in on himself, "But I used to. And... it helped. Back then. Now..." He shrugged, helplessly, "I'm too broken for something like that to help anymore, but it isn't too late for her. If she can pin the world down with words, find a way to hold onto it... it'll help. Trust me."

Before Sheila could think of an answer to that suggestion, Berger turned back to Claude and touched his forehead to the other man's, "Claudio... I'm gonna take a walk. I... I'll meet you at the theater at seven, OK?"

Recognizing the other man's need to retreat and get _his_ head back together, Claude nodded, "OK, Berger. Take whatever time you need. I'll leave your ticket at the ticket counter, just in case, OK?"

With a grateful smile, Berger just nodded and then took off for parts unknown. Sheila slowly turned towards Claude, her face a stunned mask, "You... you're just going to let him _go_? All by himself? Like _this_?"

Claude sighed, rubbing his forehead with his hands, "Sheila, you really don't understand what living with him is like. You can't hold a man like Berger against his will. He'd find a way to slip away no matter what I did... and if I tried to hold him like that -- _especially_ when he's like this -- he'd lose all trust in me... and he'd be right to." Seeing her still unconvinced, he said, "Sheila, eccentricities aside, Berger is still the most street-savvy person I know. _No one_ messes with him in this city. If anyone is going to be safe wandering around alone, it's him, OK?"

Sighing, Sheila nodded, still unconvinced, but unwilling to provoke an argument. Instead she asked, "Well, that aside... maybe you can explain to me what I said that set him off? So I can avoid saying it again in the future?"

With a slightly bitter smile, Claude answered, "If I had to guess? I'd say it was that bit about you 'not having any choice,' Sheila."

The blonde's face paled as she slowly rose from the couch and took a step back. Her voice was flat and void of emotion when she spoke, "I'm not sure what you mean, Claude."

A disbelieving snort, "Actually, I'm pretty sure you do, Sheila." Shaking his head, Claude added, "You know... I wondered why you'd have rushed off so quickly to marry this Brad fellow. I couldn't really wrap my head around it, especially with the timing of it. You'd only just officially broken up with Berger a month or two before, you had a diploma in your pocket and a whole world of possibility laid out in front of you... and then you ran off and married the original young Republican? It just didn't make sense, Sheila, even as an act of rebellion. I wasn't going to push the issue last time you were here, but now that I've met your daughter? So many things make sense now that didn't before."

Wrapping her arms around her stomach, Sheila's face paled even further, "Claude... stop. Please... just don't."

Letting out a sigh, Claude shook his head again, "Fine, Sheila. I'll stop. I'm not the one you need to be talking about this with, anyway, because ultimately, it's not any of my business. But you should talk to Berger about it. He deserves to hear it from you."

Voice choking up, Sheila gritted out, "Jesus, Claude... how can I tell him something like that?"

Sighing, Claude got up from the couch to take her shoulders in a gentle grip, "You're forgetting something very important here, Sheila. He may not be certain enough to make the accusation... but on a deep, instinctive level, he already knows. He knew last night. You just need to confirm it. You owe him that much."

Sheila slowly nodded, "OK... you're right, Claude. I'll talk to him. After the show, all right? I think we all have enough drama to deal with at the moment without throwing more onto the pile."

Sighing, Claude said, "I'm not sure about that... then again, you may be right. Tonight's going to be hard enough on him without adding that." Then, finally calmer and of one mind where it counted, Claude escorted Sheila outside, "Speaking of drama, however, I think it's more than time that we rescued Woof from Kelly and your daughter. Maybe we could take them all out to lunch?"

Smiling in relief that the discussion was tabled for now, Sheila spoke, "Oh Claude... you have no idea what you're in for." Then with a wicked laugh, she wrapped her arm around his and started leading him down the block to the subway station, "But you're about to find out!"

  


* * *

Woof met them at the door to the Howling Moon with a beaming smile, "Oh boy, am I glad to see the two of you!"

Claude and Sheila just looked at each other and Sheila began to sweat. Turning slowly back to face the other man, she winced, "What did they do this time?"

Woof blinked at them in honest confusion, "They didn't do anything, Sheila... I'm just happy to see you! And I can't wait to show off my store!" He then threw his arms around the pair and hugged them tightly to him. When they stepped back, he offered them another beaming smile, "You've got a great kid, Sheila. She's been a big help this morning!"

Unable to hide her growing disbelief, Sheila's mouth finally dropped open, "Wha--? Huh? She's been... What?"

At that moment, another voice called out from the back of the store, "Uncle Woof, are you _kidding_ me?? You've got a whole set of original Rolling Stones and Grateful Dead albums! What the hell are they doing back _here_? You could make a fortune off these!"

Woof turned his head back over his shoulder and called back, "Georgie, that's my personal collection! That stuff **stays** back there!"

Georgie poked her head out from between the strands of hanging beads that guarded the way into the stock room, "Well, why didn't you say so in the first place? Since it's yours, you mind if we put some on while we work?"

Beaming a huge smile at the girl, he said, "Not at all, Georgie. You guys can play whatever you want."

Kelly poked her head out next to Georgie's to add in her two cents, " _Anything_ , Dad?" Waggling her eyebrows, she gave them an evil grin, "Anything covers an _awful_ lot of territory, you know..."

Claude watched in bemusement as Woof's face immediately fell, "Within _reason_ , Kelly, OK? I don't want to scare away any customers..."

Grin widening, Kelly said, "Well... _I_ would consider Madonna and Wham! reasonable."

Before Woof could answer, Georgie's face took on a look of pure horror and she immediately put her foot down, "Oh, _hell_ no. Kelly, you live on top of the most awesome freakin' music store in New York and your Dad has the best damned taste on the planet... and you like Wham... and **Madonna**? She and George Michael may have good sets of pipes, but there's no substance to either one of them!" Eyes blazing, she locked gazes with Woof, "Uncle Woof, something _has_ to be done about this."

Making an expansive gesture, Woof smiled, "Please, my dear. Do your worst."

Cackling gleefully, Georgie dragged her victim back into the stockroom. Moments later, the sounds of the Grateful Dead's "Uncle John's Band" came blasting over the speakers. One of the customers let out a cheer. Sheila turned to look back at Woof, still not over her shock enough to even go near the subjects she wanted to -- like how he'd become "Uncle" Woof in just one night. Instead, she asked, "I... I thought she only listened to hair metal...?"

Woof gentled his smile and wrapped an arm comfortingly around Sheila's shoulders, "Sheila, your daughter just loves good music -- and no one in their right mind could deny that the Dead are good music."

Sheila huffed, "So... how is it that you know this and I don't?"

Shrugging, Woof stepped away, "You ever talk to her about it?" At Sheila's now guarded look, he continued, "She, Kelly and I stayed up half the night talking, mostly about music. I meant what I said earlier, Sheila. She's a great kid." Ducking his gaze, he added quietly, "'Sides... I know how to handle her. I've had practice."

"What do you mean?" Sheila winced at the shaky quality to the question. Nothing about this visit was going like she'd wanted. And that both Berger and Woof seemed to have no problems conversing with her daughter when she'd been trying so hard and failing so abysmally for the last two years... it just wasn't fair.

Woof didn't immediately answer her question. He took a few steps away to fiddle with a crystal hanging off the cash register. When he finally found the words, though, he couldn't quite look her in the eye, "Well... There are some things you don't forget, Sheila. And I knew Berger long before I knew either of you... or you knew him." Smiling a soft smile, he said, "In fact, he was about Georgie's age when we met. And Georgie, now... she reminds me a lot of Berger from back then, back when he still had a bit better of a handle on things. Even then, though, you could see that he was starting to fray around the edges and some things were harder for him than others. Music was easy. He could relate to it. He could lose himself in it with utter faith that he'd be able to find himself again when the song ended. It didn't pose a threat, you know? And Georgie... you can see it's much the same for her. Music's easy. She can let herself go in it and not stress about having to fight to find her way back. That let's her let go and be a kid for a while."

Mouth dropping open, Sheila couldn't speak for a minute. Finally, she managed to make her voice work again and said, "I... I never thought about it that way, Woof."

Looking up to meet her gaze at last, Woof gave her another small smile, "Well, now you know." Smile taking on a pleased cast as he aimed a look in Claude's direction, he said, "It's easier to talk to people when you speak their language, isn't it?"

Claude laughed, "Yeah, I guess you could say it is. And I suppose that these days I speak Berger better than anyone except maybe you, Woof."

Woof tilted his head to the side, thinking, "I don't know, Claude. I think, just maybe, you're more fluent than me, these days. Familiarity breeding skill and all that."

Choosing to ignore that comment, Claude instead asked a question, "So, are you planning on being here all day? Sheila and I thought we'd invite you guys for lunch."

Woof shrugged, "I'd happily say, 'Yes,' but we ended up here because my cashier called in sick today and I was the only one who could cover. So, I'm stuck until we close later."

Claude frowned, "I thought you close late on Saturdays..."

Nodding, Woof said, "We do, we do. But there's no way I'm missing Jeanie's debut Broadway show. If I don't have someone to cover by the time I need to leave to go get ready, I'll just close early." Elbowing Sheila gently in the arm he said, "It's times like these that it pays to be the boss."

Sheila laughed, "I imagine it does... So, what about the kids?"

Woof shrugged, "Honestly, I think they're happy as clams where they are. I have 'em counting inventory, but mostly they're using it as an excuse to go through all the old record albums and harass the customers." Woof waved back as another man walked in the front door, spied the girls through the curtains and gave him a sympathetic smile, "Fortunately, the customers are used to it."

Sheila laughed, "You know, Woof... I gotta say, this place is amazing. How did you put all this together?"

Sharing a conspiratory wink with Claude, Woof said simply, "Big divorce settlement. This was my pay-off for taking the kids." Tilting his head to the side, he said contemplatively, "Which worked out extremely well in my favor... because getting sole custody of the girls would have been the only thing I would have given this up for. I can't say I mind that it worked out so that I could have both."

They ended up staying at the music store and ordering out for pizza, thoroughly enjoying the relaxed atmosphere and the fact that they didn't need to be anywhere in particular or doing anything more significant than enjoying each other's company. Sheila was surprised to admit it, but she was glad to have the opportunity to catch up with Woof. She hadn't always understood him, that was true, and she hadn't always gotten along with him, that was even more true, but this man he'd become... she was honestly proud to call him a friend.

As the clock struck five, Woof turned the "Closed" sign over on the door and wrote a note of apology to tape up underneath it. Then he turned to the gathered group and said, "All right, people. Time to go home and get ourselves dolled up. See you at the theatre at 7!"

Up until the moment that she and Georgie left the music store, Sheila had managed to push tonight to the back of her mind. Now, though... without the buffer of Claude and Woof around her, she suddenly felt like she was on a runaway train heading straight for a cliff. She couldn't stop the show, even if she wanted to, and telling her husband... what good would that do? Caught in her increasingly churned up thoughts, Sheila almost missed their subway stop. Fortunately, Georgie, already a pro at New York's mass transit after two days of running around with Kelly, grabbed her arm and hauled her off the subway, "Jesus, Mom! Way to give a girl a heart attack!"

Still trying to catch her breath from the sudden scare she'd had herself, Sheila said shortly, "Sorry. Sorry. Wasn't paying attention."

Georgie snorted and crossed her arms over her chest, "Yeah, I figured that part out myself, Mom. Thanks. What the hell has you so spacy, anyway?"

Sheila shook her head and got them walking again, heading up to the hotel. Finally, she said, "I'm worried about tonight." At Georgie's raised eyebrow, she elaborated, "I'm worried for Jeanie that the show might not do well. Nothing's a guarantee on Broadway. But I'm also worried that it _will_ do well..."

Understanding what her mother was getting at, Georgie finished, "Because then it might be a problem for Dad." At her mother's nod, Georgie snorted, "Oh, grow up, Mom. Dad's a big boy and he can take care of himself. Besides, who in Washington pays attention to what's happening on Broadway? And it's not like your married name's gonna be in the show. No one'll ever connect it. So just relax and enjoy it."

Sheila opened her mouth to deliver a blistering retort, but Georgie just held up a finger in front of her lips and planted a stern expression on her face. Sheila was so shocked she actually forgot what she had been about to say. Into the silence, Georgie said intently, "Mom... I have just had the best two days of my life. I don't see how you could ever have left these people -- _any_ of them. And instead of enjoying it with me, you're giving yourself a freakin' ulcer over things you can't change. It's enough already. Take a breath, calm your ass down and let's go to the show and have some fun, OK?"

Looking down into her daughter's earnest blue eyes, Sheila had a sudden sense of déjà vu. Now... _now_ she felt like she was looking at herself. _Here_ was the passion that Georgie had been missing. And of all the things to take her first stand over... her mother's right to let her hair down and have a little fun without worrying about her husband's political career. And all she could do in response was grab the girl up into a hug tight enough that she squeaked. When she let her go, it was to allow a wicked smile to bloom on her own face. Grabbing her daughter's hand she started dragging her back to the subway, "Georgie, you are absolutely right. And you just gave me the most wonderful idea... and we should have _just_ enough time to pull it off before the show."

  


* * *

Claude stood outside the front of the theatre, nervously checking his watch. He'd expected Berger to show up at the last minute, but he hadn't expected Sheila and Georgie to be late, as well. He had sudden cause to wonder if Sheila had changed her mind about coming. But, she'd seemed so relaxed that afternoon! Claude had thought he'd finally managed to get her mind off her worries about the show. Maybe he hadn't been as successful as he'd thought...

After another few minutes of pacing, someone approached him and stopped right in front of him. She was dressed in a pair of fringed, bell-bottomed jeans and a brightly colored, patch-worked and bell-sleeved top that wouldn't have looked out of place during the summer of love. She had a small peace symbol hanging from her neck and a wild growth of black, curly hair that fell to mid-back. She was also beaming a tremendously large smile his way... and Claude had no idea who the hell she was. At the look of complete confusion on his face, the girl giggled and scuffed her shoe on the ground. He looked down at the movement and only figured out who it was when he saw the Doc Martens peaking out from under the bell of her jeans, " **Georgie**??"

Laughing again, she nodded, then twirled for him, "What do you think, Uncle Claude? Would I have fit in with you hippies?"

"Good G-d, Georgie! Where the hell did you find an outfit like that?" was his answer.

She twirled again, swishing her sleeves in the air as she moved, "Mom and I went shopping in the Village after we left you. Her idea, no less!" At the deepening confusion in his eyes, she elaborated, "She was having a massive stress out, I beat some sense into her, and I guess she finally decided to embrace this thing. Can't say I'm disappointed. These clothes are _wicked_ cool! How did they ever fall out of style?"

Claude was unable to come up with an intelligible response to that and instead lifted his gaze to look for Sheila, hoping she'd be somewhere nearby. A glad cry of, "Claudio!" was the only warning he had before she leapt at him, blithely certain as ever, that he would catch her before she fell. When he did, she wrapped her legs around his waist, threw back her head and crowed with delight. Still stunned by the unexpectedness of it, Claude could only hold onto her and gape. _This_ was the Sheila he remembered from that summer. Bright, wild, passionate and free. This was _his_ Sheila...

Running on instinct, and moving almost as one, the two turned at the same moment, certain that the other member of their trio was close. He was... and stood precisely where he'd frozen at the sight of them, about twenty feet away. Well, _this_ Sheila was having none of that. Wriggling her way down Claude's front -- and making him abruptly sorry that the days he could have invited her back to the apartment for a threesome were long gone as she went -- she took off in Berger's direction with similar enthusiasm, "Banana-Berger!"

Caught up in the moment just as Claude had been, Berger also caught her in midair. She wrapped her legs around his waist and bent her head forward, hiding them both in the curtain of her hair. Claude couldn't hear whatever quiet words were exchanged, but had a sudden sinking suspicion that he knew exactly what they were talking about. The conversation went on for several more minutes and Claude had to stop Georgie from interrupting more than once.

Taking the opportunity for what it was, Claude examined every inch of this transformed Sheila. She was also wearing a pair of bellbottomed blue jeans and wore a white gauzy top that would have fit right in with her old wardrobe. She had on a pair of simple lace-up brown boots... and her hair was different. It was down out of its pins, loose and flowing to the middle of her back. Not only that, but it was feathered back into those layers that she'd always worn it in, not the straight-across plait that he'd grown accustomed to seeing it in the last few times she'd visited. And the piece de resistance... she'd dug out her oversized peace symbol and it was hanging proudly around her neck once more. Just like that night in the park two months ago, Claude felt like he'd been transported back in time. And all he could do was watch... and smile.

After a few more minutes had gone by, Sheila finally wriggled herself down out of Berger's arms. Smiling brightly up at him, she planted a kiss under his chin as she wrapped her arms around his chest, then said playfully, "Did Berger miss Sheila?" Her eyes then softened as she cupped his cheek, "Because Sheila missed Berger."

Claude could see the exact moment that Berger lost control. The other man's eyes blazed and he suddenly crushed Sheila to him, mouth sealed firmly over hers as he did his best to kiss her breathless. Mouth gone suddenly dry at the sight, Claude had to swallow a few times before he could speak. When he finally could, he turned to Georgie, said, "Stay," and walked over to where Berger and Sheila were still wound around each other. When he got there, he wrapped his arms around them both and said the only thing that came to mind, still after all these years, "G-d... you two are beautiful together!"

The pair broke off the kiss to turn bright grins on him. Berger immediately latched onto his favorite spot on Claude's neck and Sheila reached up to pull his lips down for a kiss. Right around the time when Claude was trying to make a frantic decision about whether or not they _really_ had to go in for the show and if this could really be considered adultery since Sheila had been theirs _long_ before she was Brad's, the decision got made for him. A bright voice -- a _familiar_ voice -- spoke up from the direction of the theatre doors, "Georgie, have you seen Berger, Claude or your mom? Woof sent me out here to go... get..." There was a pause, then a breathless squeal of excitement, "So, _that's_ why he told me to bring my camera! Yes!!" Then there were several clicks and flashes in rapid succession. By the fifth one, the three had finally managed to separate, bright red blushes staining the faces of two of them. Crissy merely beamed serenely at them from where she was standing next to a helplessly giggling Georgie. She then waggled the camera and said wryly, "You know, Claudio... when I asked you to be more obliging, I had no idea that you would respond in such a spec _tac_ ular way! If I had, I'd have asked sooner!"

Claude could only gape in response. Fortunately, Sheila was not so stunned. Letting out a wild yip, she took off running in Crissy's direction, only pausing at the theatre doors to let them tear her ticket and to point out Georgie as being with her, before she was off and running again. Georgie followed sedately after, a charmed smile on her face as she watched this wild woman who was somehow her mother.

Once they'd gone, Claude wrapped his arms around Berger and smiled. Berger pulled the other man flush up against him in a tight embrace, his own smile a little uncertain. Claude shook his head and planted a chaste kiss on Berger's lips, "I don't mind, Banana-Berger. I never minded sharing you with Sheila. That was always part and parcel of the deal. I don't want any piece of you that you don't give willingly. You know that."

Berger smiled, raising a hand to brush against Claude's face, "I do know that. But... it's different now, Claudio. Back then, I couldn't understand why anyone would want to tie themselves down to one person. Now... now I do. I do love Sheila, some part of me always will, but it's _you_ I want to wake up to every morning. I don't just want you to have a piece of me, Claudio... I want you to have all of me -- every single fucked up part." Bumping his nose lightly against Claude's, he added softly, "For better or for worse..."

Claude's breath caught at the sheer depth of the meaning in those words. Roughly, he answered back, "In sickness and in health...?"

Smile widening, Berger planted kisses on the points of each of Claude's cheekbones, then another soft one on his lips, "All of it, Claudio. Every single word of it. If I could... I'd marry you today." His voice suddenly took on a fierce tone, "And someday... someday I **will**."

Letting out a soft sob, Claude wrapped his arms tightly around Berger's neck and buried his face in the other man's shoulder. The sheer promise in those words... of a life where they _could_ marry, a life where they could be joined forever in front of G-d and witnesses, a life where they didn't have to hide what they were to each other... It was such a beautiful dream. Berger just held him, rubbing soothing circles around his back in this moment caught outside of time. When he finally pulled away, he let out a watery chuckle, "Well... this sure wasn't what I thought would happen when I came to Jeanie's show tonight. Imagine that, a marriage proposal at my age..."

Berger laughed and punched him lightly in the shoulder, "You're not that old, Claudio. You're not even forty. Besides, the way the world is now, when we finally _can_ get married we'll probably be in wheelchairs and diapers."

Claude stared at him for a moment, then smacked him in the shoulder, "Thank you, Berger. Thank you for that _wonderful_ image. Now I'm going to be depressed."

Wrapping an arm around Claude's waist, Berger just grinned, "Aw... you know you love me."

He sighed, "Yeah... I do at that." Poking Berger's shoulder, he added, "And don't think that brilliantly executed piece of misdirection is getting you out of telling me what you and Sheila talked about."

Berger dropped his head onto Claude's shoulder, turning his face into his shirt, "Yeah... I thought we'd come back around to that." Taking in a deep breath, he finally admitted, "I was right. She's mine, Claudio."

Claude winced as Berger pulled away to bury his hands in his hair and tug. He said quietly, "Well... it's not like it's a surprise, Berger. I think everyone except the kids have figured it out by now. It's kind of hard to miss." Stepping closer and taking one of Berger's hands in his, he smiled, "It's a good thing, Berger. It's a _real_ good thing."

Berger just stared at him, completely thrown by Claude's nonchalant response. Claude reached out to ease one of Berger's hands down from his hair and used it to pull him close and wrap his arms around him again, "You ducked out of that talk last night and there was something very important that I didn't get to tell you... a secret, if you will. So... here it is: I may not be afraid of a world without me in it... but, the thought of a world without George Berger? Love... that scares me witless. Because how could a world like that have any joy?" He paused, then continued with a wide smile, "But if that world had _Georgie_ in it? A girl that's a perfect blend of the two people that mean the most to me on this planet? My G-d... there's going to be nothing on this Earth that she won't be able to accomplish... _if_ she's able to put her mind to it." Seeing Berger's answering smile, he concluded, "And you know what? If she never does anything more than brighten it with her existence... then that's OK, too."

Crushing the other man to him in a tight embrace, Berger said, "Jesus, Claude... I don't deserve you."

Laughingly planting a kiss on Berger's nose, Claude answered, "No, you don't. But you have your uses, so I let you stick around."

Berger laughed and bent his head to plant a series of nipping kisses along Claude's neck... or he would have if the doorman hadn't quietly cleared his throat and said, "Gentlemen... my apologies for interrupting, but the show is going to start in approximately five minutes. You may wish to take your seats."

Claude murmured a quiet, "Thank you," then disentangled himself from Berger and herded him into the theatre. The last thing he wanted was for them to be late after all that! It wasn't until he saw where everyone else was sitting and realized that the two seats to the left of the middle of the row were the only ones empty that Claude began to feel an inkling of worry. Jeanie had put them all in the front row with the kids behind them...? Oh dear Lord.

Climbing over the others to reach their seats, Claude counted heads. Everyone was present and accounted for, except for Jeanie -- who would be backstage overseeing the show -- and... where was Cloud? Before he had a chance to ask anyone, though, the lights went down. Berger took his left hand firmly in his right and pulled it into his lap. Well... here went everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:**
> 
> Berger: Ha! I _knew_ it!
> 
> Sheila: *blush* Yeah, yeah. Don't rub it in.
> 
> Georgie: Knew what? What the hell are you guys talking about?
> 
> Sheila: *panicked look* Nothing! Nothing! Neverminditwasnothing!
> 
> Berger: *twitch* You have no intention of telling her, do you?
> 
> Georgie: Telling me _what_ already, for cripes' sake??
> 
> Woof: *patpats the Georgie* Here... have a Kelly.
> 
> Kelly: Huh?
> 
> Georgie: *feral smile* Gee thanks, Uncle Woof! *drags Kelly off*
> 
> Berger: *doubletwitch* You really _don't_ plan to tell her... do you? *hurt look*
> 
> Sheila: *wince*
> 
> Woof: O_O *patpats the Berger* Here... have a Claude.
> 
> Claude: *sweatdrop* What am I, the tribal sacrifice?
> 
> Sheila: *blows raspberry* Now you know how it feels!
> 
> Berger: *eg* Gee thanks, Uncle Woof! *drags Claude off*
> 
> Woof: *twitch* I'm not your uncle!
> 
> Sheila: *laughs* *claps Woof on the shoulder* Man... you weren't kidding when you said you'd had practice... ^_~
> 
> Questions, comments, papaya?
> 
>  _Coming Soon:_ Finally, the show has started! The curtain opens, Act I begins... and down we go on the first dip in this roller coaster. There will be laughter, there will be tears and a few unexpected twists in the road... but really, what else do you expect at this point? ^_~


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _April 26, 2010:_** We have finally reached the premiere! ^_^ I had originally only intended to touch on this briefly, skim past the show itself and launch on into the aftermath. Yeah... that didn't happen. O_O Instead, I ended up taking almost 25 pages to get through the musical. So, things shifted. You get the musical in all its glory -- complete with the Tribe's angst and hilarity in response -- then a taste of the aftermath. There _will_ be another fic to detail what happens after... because at the end of Part 5, I gave you a bit of a tease for where we're going next. Why? ^_^ 'Cuz I'm evil. *smug grin* Enjoy!

  
**Hair, Part 4**   
_by[Renee-chan](mailto:chibi1723@hotmail.com)_   


The lights went down and the music started. It was strange music... Claude could feel it in his gut. It was... he laughed as he thought of the perfect word. It was _tribal_. And he knew that rhythm. His heart had beat to that rhythm since he was 17. Looking to either side of him, he saw that the others felt it, too. And if that was just the opening sample to what this night was going to be like... Boy, oh boy, was this going to be an experience.

The music picked up in intensity and actors started creeping out from the sides of the stage to take their places behind the sheer, gauzy curtain. One figure led another out into the center of the stage to take her place... and as the curtain dropped, the one in the center began to sing. To his right, Dionne let out a breathless little squeal and grabbed onto her husband, "Oh my G-d, Hud! It's **me**! I sing the opening number!"

To their left, Crissy let out an equally breathless scream, "Guys! Guys, guys! The one that walked her out! It's **me**! And there's Sheila! And Hud!"

Woof jumped in, leaning over to Berger saying, "I see me back there! And Jeanie -- Oh my G-d... they made her pregnant! And, Jesus, Berger! That's you! I'd know that hair and vest anywhere!"

Berger's eyes were eagerly searching the stage, only vaguely noting Woof's excited babbling as he looked for the only person that really mattered to him. And when he found him, he breathed out the name like a prayer, "Claude... There..."

Claude leaned forward, peering between the formation of singers to see where Berger was pointing and nearly shot to his feet in shock, "Jesus Christ on a crutch! That's **Cloud**!"

At Claude's shocked exclamation, Sheila, Hud, Dionne and Berger leaned forward in stunned amazement. Dionne was the one who said it, "So _that's_ what he's been up to since he graduated! No wonder he didn't want to tell us!"

Claude swung his head to the left to look past Berger to Woof and Crissy... who didn't look surprised in the slightest. He hissed at them, "Traitors! You two knew about this!"

Woof tucked himself down in his seat and whimpered as Crissy patted his shoulder comfortingly, "Yes, we knew about it. I'm sorry we didn't tell you. Now shut up and watch the show! We'll talk about it later."

As the first song wound down and the Tribe spread out across the stage, "Berger" stepped forward and started spouting off some nonsense on transcendental love. Claude leaned over and nudged Berger, "Guess you were high that day, huh?"

Berger snorted in response, "When was I _not_?"

Before Claude could answer, "Berger" stopped right in front of them and shouted, "Hello!" Though startled at being addressed, the audience answered back, "Hello!"

Once he had their attention, "Berger" gave them a beaming grin and introduced himself, saying that, "He didn't dig George too much..." The seven in the front row recognized the opening to the litany right away and all leaned over to poke at Berger, who hunched down and threw a couple of nervous glances over his shoulder at the row of kids behind him, "Aw crap..."

Then everyone abruptly halted the teasing as "Berger" reached the end of the litany and pulled off his jeans to reveal a fringed loincloth underneath. Claude threw Berger a leering grin -- he remembered that loincloth... and he missed _it_ the way Berger missed Claude's old jeans. Berger just gave him a wide smirk and waggled his eyebrows in response. Meanwhile, "Berger" made a few more joking remarks as he worked his way towards stage left, then turned his gaze over to Crissy with a wide smirk, "Hey."

Crissy stared up at him in stunned disbelief and pointed a finger towards herself with an incredulous look on her face. He nodded, an evil twinkle in his eye that they all recognized and made his way down the stairs to the flushed brunette. When he reached her seat, his smirk widened, "Hey, pretty lady. Would you hold my pants for me?"

Crissy just gaped, caught between horror... and pure enjoyment. It was about this point that the audience started cluing in to how _very_ different this show was going to be. Finally, Crissy came to a decision and reaching up both hands, gave "Berger" a beaming smile and said, "It would be my pleasure, Unzipped-Berger! You just let me know if you need 'em back, honey, OK?"

Entranced by Crissy's willingness to play along, "Berger" planted a soft kiss on her cheek as he leaned over to give her his pants, "You're cool, babe." When he stood up he then made a 'call me' gesture near his ear with his right hand and waggled his eyebrows at Crissy. She laughed and gave him a thumbs up.

At that point, "Berger" abruptly looked to his left and his eyes lit up in a bright smile when he spotted someone wearing torn jeans and a fringed vest of his own. Bounding down the row, he stopped at Berger and pulled him to his feet, spinning him to face the audience. He then yelled out, "Hey, everyone! I almost forgot! My mom's here! Say 'Hi!' Mom!"

For just a moment, Claude thought Berger was going to drop out of the poor man's hold and hide under his seat... but he needn't have worried. After that one moment of panic, Berger got his feet back under him. Wrapping an arm around "Berger's" shoulders he beamed and waved wildly at the audience. Then he turned back to "Berger," planted a smacking kiss on his cheek and said in a very high pitched voice, "Make me proud, son!"

Even more taken with Berger than he'd been with Crissy, Claude could almost see it as "Berger's" energy level revved up another notch. He even slapped Berger lightly on the ass as he went by. When Berger whirled around, eyes wide, his doppelganger just smile and waggled his fingers in a little wave, "Love you, Mom!"

Laughing, Berger shook a finger at the other man and sat back down. Claude was almost in tears, he was laughing so hard. Berger poked him hard in the shoulder and whispered, "It wasn't _that_ funny!"

Claude managed to control his mirth just enough to meet Berger's eyes and say, "Oh, yes... it was! It was great to see you finally get a taste of your own medicine!"

Before Berger could retort, Dionne busted out laughing to their right. "Berger" had stopped at Hud's seat and put one bare foot up on the chair arm so that he could swing his fringe... and other things... straight into the man's face. Poor Hud looked like he hadn't a clue what to do about it or even where he should look. He finally settled for sending a panicked glance in his wife's direction. Dionne, however, was too busy indulging in hysterical giggles to answer. Finally, he raised his eyes back up to meet "Berger's." The other man just smiled a wicked grin and said, "Hey man... you have a dollar?"

Hud's mouth dropped open in shock. Beside him, Claude heard Berger draw in a breath, "Oh, Hud... that was _not_ the smartest idea..." Fortunately, Hud seemed to realize that and snapped his mouth closed, no doubt grateful that this _wasn't_ the summer of love. Amusingly enough, it was Sheila that came to his rescue. Smiling widely, she raised up her hand and waved a dollar bill towards "Berger" to catch his attention.

Once he saw what she had in her hand, "Berger," sure enough, came right back over and planted his foot up on _her_ chair arm. Well... Sheila did the only thing she really could do. Putting the dollar bill back in her purse, she pulled out a twenty and tucked it neatly into "Berger's" loincloth. Then, smiling up at the younger man, she said, "That should cover all of you, I should think..."

Beaming, "Berger" pulled her to her feet and spun her around in a crazy dance of joy before allowing her to return to her seat. Raising her hand to his lips, he gave it a soft kiss, "You're cool, too, lady. Maybe you, me and the hottie down the row," At this point, he waved at Crissy, who waved back, "Can all get together and have a little shindig later on."

Sheila, fully in the moment, contemplated that for a minute, then draped herself sideways into Claude and Berger's laps, "Only if I can bring my boyfriends, too."

"Berger" let out a crow of delight, "Now that is my kind of woman! You are **on** , lady!" He then danced away from her and back up onto the stage. Claude was just able to catch a glimpse of Jeanie's form in the wings, bent practically double she was laughing so hard. Well, good, they shouldn't be the only ones getting amusement from this!

The laughter continued through the first several songs, Berger's raucous "Donna," the oozing, almost flashback-inducing "Hashish," Woof's "Sodomy" -- an ironic title choice given that Woof was still one of the straightest among them -- and Hud's "Colored Spade." At least Hud seemed to enjoy that last. It was a pretty catchy tune.

And then... finally... Cloud slid his way out of the background to center stage, stopping right in front of Claude and Berger to tilt his head back and crow. When he brought his head back down and caught Claude's eye, he winked, then started saying his lines... in an extremely fake British accent. Claude's face started doing a slow burn and he started slouching down in his seat. Berger, on the other hand, was delighted.

It wasn't until Cloud started reciting his social security number that Claude shot back up in his seat, a look of horror on his face. Crissy leaned over, "Holy crap, Claude -- is that your actual social?"

Claude buried his face in his hands, letting out a quiet moan, "Not quite. She changed the last two numbers, at least... though knowing Cloud, he may have changed it just now when he saw the look on my face. Jeanie and I are going to have to have a talk about this. Using my name is one thing... my name _and_ my social security number? **Fuck**."

Cloud, however, was continuing, introducing himself -- by his full name, as promised -- proclaiming his own beauty and declaring himself to be from Manchester... that is, until another Tribe Member stepped forward and said, "Uh-uh. He's from Flushing, Queens!" They then broke into another song.

This one... he'd never made a big deal, that first night, of the falsehood that he was from England. But once the Tribe had gotten to know him, it would certainly get brought up in teasing, now and again. But what he heard in this song -- what Jeanie had brought to light through it -- was his own yearning. It forcibly brought to mind how lost, how adrift and alone he'd been, before meeting Berger and the Tribe. His life had been so empty. He'd spent countless hours hiding in the movie theatres in the desperate hope that his father wouldn't find out he'd dropped out of school, something which eventually proved to be a very vain hope, indeed.

Berger's hand reached over to take one of his and pulled it back into his lap, lightly stroking it for comfort. Of course... of course, Berger understood. He'd been the one to explain it to Sheila for him all those years ago. Smiling, he used his grip on Berger's hand to bring it up to his own lips and plant a light kiss on the knuckles. Cloud happened to be looking their way at the time and Claude could almost see the moment when the boy managed to successfully avoid rolling his eyes... barely.

When that song was over, Woof, Hud, Berger and Claude's characters stepped up to center stage, then started the cast off singing another song. Claude felt his heart lurch, yet again, at Cloud's opening line... "I'm invisible." G-d, how he remembered that. Wanting to be invisible... to just float around and perform miracles. He'd been so naïve, so innocent... so young. Just before he could let himself drift off on a little angst fest, however, he was distracted by the sound of Berger snickering beside him. He looked up at the stage... to find "Berger" pinching one of Cloud's nipples. And Cloud... either he was a really good actor, or he honestly didn't object. And... oh my. Cloud was looking straight at them, an evil grin of monumental proportions on his face. After all... turnabout was fair play, right? Claude just slunk further down in his seat, cheeks glowing red with embarrassment.

That song turned out to be a lament to the have-not generation. Of course... they'd had nothing because they hadn't _worked_ for it... but hindsight was forever perfect. Just as "Dionne" got finished singing her lines, there was a trumpet fanfare... and out came "Sheila," whom "Woof" proclaimed to be Joan of Arc. She was riding the shoulders of two of the young men on stage, a beatific smile on her face. Claude recognized that smile -- it was the smile of the goddess, the smile of the saint that was too good for anyone else to touch. It was the smile that had drawn him to her to begin with. Beside him, the real Sheila clapped a hand to her mouth, clearly torn between giggling and wanting to hide her face. "Sheila," meanwhile, was prancing around the stage and seemed to be torn between singing about the virtues of love and the virtues of standing up for one's country. It was actually a brilliantly written song. Jeanie had captured Sheila to a tee, cleverly showing the conflict between Sheila's two strongest driving forces: her passion for her cause and her passion for the two young men she loved.

And after that song... that was when things got a little strange. First "Sheila" led a protest on stage, complete with waving signs, as they again reprised the anthem to the "have-nots." Claude particularly liked the one that read, "I've seen G-d and she's black!" Berger would later tell him that his favorite had been the one that read "Lay Not Slay!" -- which wasn't exactly a large surprise. Once the protest had drawn to a close, "Crissy" and "Dionne" toddled forward, lightly dancing their voices around the same few notes. If Claude didn't know better, he'd have started wondering if Berger had slipped him something before the show, because this whole experience was sure as hell starting to feel like a drug trip.

Eventually, "Jeanie" popped out from behind the two wearing a gas mask. "Crissy" and "Dionne" dropped away to roll around on the floor. Down in the front row, Crissy and Dionne were trying to hold in the laughter at their alter-egos actions up on stage. And there was something... Claude couldn't quite place it, but he thought he knew the song. Sulfur and breathing... he'd have to ask Jeanie.

When the song drew to a close, "Jeanie" stepped forward and gave the audience a pained smile, "I wired my parents for money. Told them I was pregnant. They said, 'Stay pregnant!'" Then she threw her hands wide and yelled out, "I'm the slum goddess of the Lower East Side!"

Claude winced. He knew that Jeanie didn't think of herself that way anymore, but it still pained him to know that he'd let her think it of herself at all. "Dionne" and "Crissy" stepped forward so they could introduce each other as Cloud plunked himself down on the ground with a newspaper just to their left. Oh no... Feeling his heart sink, Claude could guess where they were going next.

Up on stage, "Dionne" looked out at the audience and pointed at Cloud, "And Jeanie... _loves_ Claude."

And... there it was. Berger lifted a hand to gently rub his back, then pulled his head down to rest on his shoulder. He and Jeanie had discussed this situation more than once, but as stressed as he'd been about all the other things that might be revealed by this play, he'd managed to forget this particular tangle. But... Jeanie had seemed to find some measure of peace as regarded her unrequited love for him. And she wouldn't have put it in there if she wasn't OK with it. Jeanie's character walked over to Cloud and started expounding on her love for him, even going so far as to say that she wished her baby was his... and to describe him as her own personal acid. Oh boy. Claude hid his face in Berger's shoulder. He was really going to have to do something nice for Jeanie after this...

When he next looked up, the scene had changed. Cloud was still reading the paper, true, but... His mouth dropped open, "Oh my G-d. Berger... I think those are supposed to be my parents."

Berger just laughed and pulled him closer. Watching that scene... even more than the rest of the show had been, it was like watching a snapshot of his old life. His mother in her robe and hair net, vacuuming the stage. His father in his housecoat and slippers, walking around with the paper and a disappointed look on his face. Himself... flouting every single concern they had for his future and well-being. In spite of how it had all turned out, looking back, he could almost feel pity for them. Certainly, if he'd had a child and that child had put him through what he'd put his parents through... it would have broken his heart. For the first time in a long time, he felt a squirm of guilt in his gut. Maybe he ought to call his mother when they got home. Or at least write her a letter... let her know that he was all right.

In spite of the gravity of what he was watching, he laughed along with everyone else when his "mother" said, "Face it! You're a Polack!" Jeanie was right... there _had_ been humor in this moment. He just hadn't been able to see it at the time, as terrified as he'd been by that piece of paper that Cloud was holding in his hands. But now... Good grief, that bit with his mother's beads... and his pants... It was even more hysterical because it was _true_. Quietly he snickered into Berger's shoulder. Berger leaned closer and commented, "Man, Claudio... you were really a brat, weren't you?"

Claude tilted his head upwards and smiled innocently, "Yeah... I guess I kind of was, wasn't I?"

Crissy leaned over from further down the row and winked, "So, now we all know who's _really_ to blame for Cloud, huh?"

Berger swatted at her and giggling, she leaned back in her seat. Claude just smiled and said, "Thanks, love."

Berger smirked, "Don't mention it, dear."

That scene led into another big number that was all Cloud's, then a cute little ditty about Lyndon Johnson's war against the drug counter-culture of the hippies. Claude had to applaud Jeanie -- a lot of these songs were pretty clever. And then...

"I finally got out!"

"Out of who?"

"Out of _whom_."

"Of your curriculum!"

Next to him, it was Berger's turn to hide his head for a moment, though in his case, it was to stifle laughter. When he looked up to watch the Tribe enact his expulsion, he was practically bouncing in his seat with glee, "Claudio... this is _great_!"

"We do not send our chemistry teachers on trips!"

"The chemistry teacher liked it!"

"...He jumped out a window!"

"The chemistry lab is on the ground floor."

Claude could only laugh right along with him as another rousing number started -- this one comparing Berger to the first among the Fallen: Lucifer. It was such an apt comparison that the entire front row was in stitches and leaning over to poke whatever part of Berger they could reach. Halfway through the song, seeing all the antics going on in the first row, "Berger" decided to get in on the action, too. He hopped down off the stage to run over and serenade them, even going so far as to straddle his "mom's" lap for a few bars. Berger was delighted. He was even more delighted when the entire cast started simulating sexual positions during the last chorus of the song. He leaned over to Claude, eyes alight, "I **love** it! Claudio, was I really this wild?"

Sheila leaned over to answer, "Banana-Berger, you were worse. You're this wild _now_... but you've mellowed."

Attempting to look contrite, but only managing to look smug, Berger said meekly, "Oh..."

The song ended with the whole Tribe collapsed on the ground. Well... almost the whole Tribe. Cloud was kneeling on the highest part of the stage, a dull expression on his face as he hung his arms over the railings and stared out into the audience. In a dead voice, he intoned, "I am the son of G-d... Beware. I shall vanish and be forgotten." Claude stiffened. Berger immediately wrapped his arm back around him and gripped his left hand tightly. Sheila took his other hand.

On stage, "Jeanie" and the rest of the Tribe started calling his name. Cloud climbed down from the top balcony to the lower platform. In spite of all the shouted questions from the rest of the Tribe -- even "Jeanie's," "Did the doctors dig your body?" -- went unanswered. Cloud sought out "Berger's" eyes, a panorama of fear visible in his own. "Berger" saw that look and backed up a pace, a look of horror spreading quickly across his face. At "Berger's" recoil, Cloud started to answer "Jeanie"... but was interrupted. "Berger" stepped forward again and made a chopping motion with his hand. He said firmly, " **No.** Don't tell us. Just..." His voice dropped into a pleading tone on the last words, "...please don't."

The fear in Cloud's eyes transmuted into sadness and he just solemnly nodded. The rest of the Tribe exclaimed in horror and Cloud slowly climbed down the remaining bit of scaffolding into their waiting embrace. But he seemed to want none of them. Ignoring their grasping hands, he had eyes for only one person -- "Berger." Making his way resolutely across the stage to the other man, he pleaded, "Berger... You have to help me! What am I going to do?"

"Berger" was frozen for a moment, seemingly without an answer. Eventually, he tossed out, "Dance bare-assed down 45th St.!" At Cloud's irritated look, "Berger" slung an arm around his shoulder and smiled, "Just take me down to the induction center with you. Tell them I'm your girlfriend... and you can't sleep without me!" When Cloud shrugged him off with a look of disgust on his face, Claude didn't think he was imagining the hurt that he saw in "Berger's" eyes. This boy was _good_. And it reminded him...

Leaning over to whisper in Berger's ear, Claude said, "I... never did apologize for brushing you off, then, did I?"

Berger just shrugged, "You were scared and you needed to lash out at someone, Claudio. I knew that even then. It's OK."

Shaking his head, Claude answered, "No... no it isn't OK. I'm sorry. If... G-d, Berger, if I'd just done what you suggested then... Hell, if I'd run off to Canada with you..."

Pulling him closer, Berger silenced him with a brief kiss, "Don't do that, Claudio. You can't win that game. You didn't do it. Things happened. It all turned out OK in the end... so don't worry about it." Poking him in the shoulder, he forced a smile, "Just watch the show, OK? Jeanie's gonna be pissed if we talk through the whole thing."

Still not entirely satisfied, Claude nonetheless did as Berger asked. The rest of the Tribe on stage had been throwing out their own suggestions, each more ridiculous than the next. Eventually Cloud got disgusted with them, too, and holding out his hands, muttered, "Oh... if only this too, too solid flesh would melt..." Then what did he do? Made a beeline straight back across the stage to his Berger. In a desperate tone, he said, "Berger... if I go, I'll be killed. Or get a leg shot off, _something_. I don't want to die!"

"Berger" seemed to, for once, be at a loss for words. He stood there, staring back into Cloud's eyes, an equally terrified look in his own. Seeing no answer forthcoming from the one person he'd always expected to _have_ all the answers, Cloud's eyes shuttered and he turned away, "They're not gonna get me."

That seemed to bring "Berger" back to himself and he chased after Cloud, a look caught between desperation and anger on his face, "Oh, yes they are!" He grabbed Cloud by his jacket sleeve and pulled him out of the knot of other tribespeople he'd retreated into, "You will go! And you will loot, rape, kill and do **exactly** what they tell you to do!" With that last shout, he shoved against Cloud, causing them both to overbalance and fall to the floor. Cloud had a look of hurt and betrayal on his face... which turned quickly into fear and upset with "Berger's" next words.

"I got kicked out of school, Claudio." Green eyes met blue in perfect understanding as he finished, "Now I'm Viet Nam bait, too." The other members of the Tribe started chiming in with their own angry comments, but Cloud and "Berger" had eyes only for each other. The magnetic pull between the two was palpable all the way to the back row. If they'd fallen into each other's arms and started making out, Claude doubted that anyone in the audience would have been surprised. And just when Claude was really starting to fret at the depressive turn the play was taking...

"Yoohoo! Excuse me, young man! Could I ask you a question?"

All heads in the audience whipped around to the right hand balcony. An older woman and her husband had risen from their seats and it was the woman who had spoken. Sheila muttered, "Well, shit. _That's_ rude."

Fortunately, Cloud and "Berger" took it all in stride. "Berger" got to his feet and headed over to the balcony ladder while Cloud pasted on his sweetest smile and said, "Sure, lady. Would you like to come down?"

The woman, seeming to realize what a predicament she'd just gotten herself into, got a look of panic on her face and said, "Oh! Oh, no. That's quite all right!" Unfortunately for her, "Berger" and "Woof" had already reached the balcony. "Berger" took her hand and "Woof" grabbed her husband's and they dragged them through the door to the stairs. Once they were hidden from view, her voice called out from behind the wall, "Oh! Oh, no! Don't touch me there! That's inappropriate!"

As the audience laughed uproariously, Sheila snorted and said smugly, "Serves her right for interrupting the show."

Berger's eyes were narrowed, "Claudio... there's something about that woman... I'm not sure she's a 'she'."

Claude whipped around to look at him and when their eyes met, understanding finally dawned. Berger dissolved into hysterical laughter and Claude just barely managed to gasp out to Sheila, "Margaret Mead and Hubert!" before doing the same. Having overheard, Woof and Crissy also broke into giggles. Sheila looked confused for a moment, then her eyes also lit and she turned to whisper to Hud and Dionne. That set off the three of them.

By the time "Berger," "Woof" and their guests made it onto the stage, the Tribe in the front row had calmed down to the occasional snicker and they were able to pay attention again. Those had been some of the only unalloyed good days he'd had during the weeks after he got his draft notice. It hadn't actually happened that day, like Jeanie was portraying it, but it had happened a day or two later and there had been more than one visit. Meg and Hubert had stopped by at least once a day the entire time they were in the city to visit the hippies they'd grown so fond of. Claude had spent many a quiet afternoon talking to Meg, trying to figure out how she'd gotten the courage to do what she'd done, to give up everything for a chance at true happiness with the man she loved. And he remembered wondering then what it would be like if he and Berger could pull it off... If he and Berger would still be together at their age. It hadn't occurred to him then, but he couldn't help noticing now... Sheila hadn't been in that mental picture. And it hadn't even occurred to him that her absence from that fantasy should have been glaringly conspicuous. He hadn't told Berger about it then because he'd been afraid to spook the boy who lived only for the moment. Looking over at the other man's profile, he smiled softly. Maybe it was time he shared those fantasies, because he had a feeling that the man Berger had become... not only would he not be scared off, he'd be touched.

The conversation with "Margaret" and her husband led into another rousing song. And this one... good Lord. Cloud and "Berger" were all over each other! Berger turned to look at him and grinned a wicked grin. Once they got through the first chorus, Cloud and "Berger" were both down into the audience -- "Berger" up the left-hand aisle and Cloud down in the front row. He sprawled across laps, stood up on chair arms, messed up people's hair... and eventually landed himself in Claude's lap, an evil smirk on his face. Reaching out a hand as he was singing, he grabbed the tie that Claude used to hold his hair back and pulled, releasing Claude's shoulder length, honey blonde hair. He then reached out and buried his hands in that hair, mussing it up with a gleeful grin. That accomplished, he shoved the tie into his pocket and leapt off Claude's lap to race back up on stage. Claude just gaped after the boy, still stunned.

Beside him, Berger was laughing his head off, slapping his thighs with mirth as he bounced up and down. When Claude turned to glare at the other man, Berger wordlessly held up a peace offering... his old headband. He must have stopped by the apartment some time that afternoon to retrieve it for just such a possibility. Looking into Berger's sad-but-hopeful eyes, Claude gave in to the inevitable. Finger-combing his hair back into some semblance of order, he separated the layers and slid the headband on in between. That accomplished, he raised an eyebrow at Berger, "Satisfied?"

Beaming and glomming onto Claude's arm, Berger said, "Quite!" then turned back to watching the antics of those on stage. "Berger" groped Cloud at center stage for a while, then they split up to go down into the audience again. This time, they traded off spots, Cloud running up the left aisle and "Berger" coming down into the front row. Seeing Claude now with a headband and hairstyle nearly identical to _his_ Claude's, he momentarily looked confused. It was the first time he'd broken character all evening. Claude smile apologetically and slouched down in his seat. Fortunately, the boy recovered quickly, climbing up onto the arms of Sheila's seat to mess with her hair, then pulling her to her feet to dance around in the aisle with him.

When the song ended, all the Tribe members made their way back onto the stage where the hilarity resumed. Cloud and "Berger" were standing together, arms wrapped casually around each other, beaming smiles on their faces. "Margaret" sang her song, daring the parents in the audience to let their children be who they were, inadvertently becoming the spokesperson for the Tribe's guiding anthem: "Be free. No guilt. Be whoever you are, do whatever you want to do... just as long as you don't hurt anybody." Or as Berger had put it all those years ago, "No restrictions except to do no harm, no taboos except to listen when someone says 'No,' and no limitations but your ability to trust."

When the scene was over, he laughed right along with everyone else at the great "reveal" of what was... or _wasn't_ under "Margaret's" dress. And that moment of great hilarity had been desperately needed to break up the increasingly depressing tone of the show. Especially as they all knew that they hadn't even reached the worse part yet.

As Margaret Mead and her husband made their way off the stage, a familiar form came catapulting through the back stage door -- Democracy's Daughter, herself. After describing her recent journey to D.C., Cloud cuddled "Sheila" close to tell her how much they'd missed her. In the front row, Sheila also crowded up against Claude to whisper in his ear, "OK... this is eerie." At Claude's questioning look, Sheila raised an eyebrow, "Don't you see? We practically enacted this scene outside before the show."

They turned back to the stage to watch and Claude was forced to conclude that Sheila was right. They'd run through that little act so often when they were younger and Sheila had just returned from some time away... It had felt so natural to do it before that none of them had even questioned it. When they got past it to the bit about the yellow shirt, Claude felt Berger bury his face in his shoulder on the other side. Sheila smiled softly at his dejected form and reached a hand around Claude to stroke through Berger's hair, "Hey, Banana-Berger... forgiven, forgotten, OK? And I'm sorry about how I reacted to the news you'd been expelled. I... could have handled that better, myself."

Berger looked up, eyes grateful, and nodded, "Forgiven, forgotten, Sheila. Thanks." Berger's eyes then narrowed, "Wait a second... That 'groovy guy' you met..."

Unexpectedly, Sheila's cheeks flamed a bright scarlet and she hid her face in her hands. After a moment, she raised her eyes up again and nodded, "...Was Brad, Berger. We met in D.C. and when he found out I went to NYU, he offered me a lift back here. Even though I told him I was seeing someone, he transferred from Georgetown to Columbia the next semester to be closer to me." She snorted out a soft laugh, "Said he was willing to wait."

To Sheila's surprise, Berger just reached out a hand to stroke her cheek and said, "I'm glad." At her shocked look, he smiled, "Really, I am. I'm glad you found someone who loves you that much. And if he was willing to move across four state lines on the off chance that you might change your mind about him... well, I guess he's OK."

Sheila smiled in return and clasped Berger's hand tightly, "I'd love for you guys to meet him someday. Not to mention my two younger ones." Smile widening, she added, "I think they'd love you."

When Sheila's torch song ended, and "Berger" made amends by offering to sew that stupid shirt back together, "Jeanie" again stepped up to the front of the stage. Jeanie seemed to be using these moments to make her character act as a narrator of sorts, revealing all sorts of uncomfortable truths that Claude would just as soon keep safely hidden. He slumped in his seat, face flushing, just _knowing_ that he was going to feel guilty all over again with whatever it was she was going to reveal this time.

Eyes sad, "Jeanie" pointed a finger over at where "Berger" and "Sheila" were cuddling at stage right, "This is the way it is. Sheila's hung up on Berger." Turning those sad eyes towards where Cloud was walking over to join the pair, she continued, "I'm hung up on Claude." She sighed, "Claude's hung up on a cross over Sheila _and_ Berger." She made a disgusted face as the audience started to laugh, "And Berger's hung up _every_ where. As a prospective mother, I would just like to say that there is something _highly_ unusual going on around here!" Turning, her eyes lit up with the fire of passion for her subject, "And furthermore, Woof's hung up on Berger--"

Before she got any further, "Woof" interrupted with a deadpan, "No, I'm not." He shouldn't have, as with her acting as narrator she should have been "invisible" to the rest of the cast... but with Woof's strange way of seeing things that no one else could... that was appropriate, too. At "Jeanie's" aghast expression, he walked up to her and shyly smiled, "Shows what you know. I'm hung up on Mick Jagger."

Crissy immediately started giggling and poked Woof in the side. Woof just offered up a sheepish grin, "Well... I won't deny it. It's still true."

Berger scoffed as he also poked Woof, "Admit it. You were hung up on me, too -- at least a little."

Woof gave Berger a gentle smile, "OK... a _little_." At Berger's smug grin, Woof rolled his eyes, "We were _all_ hung up on you a little, Banana-Berger."

Berger laughed, then turned his eyes back to Claude, "She got one thing a little wrong, though." At Claude's raised eyebrow, he smiled softly, "Even then... I was more hung up on you than anyone else, Claudio. From the beginning."

Raising Berger's hand to his lips, Claude planted a gentle kiss on the knuckles in response, "I know, Sexy-Berger. Even then, I was more hung up on you than anyone else, too."

Sheila snorted, "And what the hell was I? Chopped liver?"

Dionne reached out an arm and gave her a comforting hug, "Oh, come on, girl. This isn't news. We had this figured out even back then, didn't we?" With a sigh, Sheila nodded. Dionne gave her one last squeeze, then let her go.

"Woof," meanwhile, had joined up with "Berger" and another Tribe member to sing a song about the flag. When that was over, "Jeanie" and Cloud had another scene. Seeing the book in "Jeanie's" hand, Claude let out another groan and hid his face in Berger's shoulder, "Oh G-d, she didn't... Damn it. I'm going to have to buy her something _really_ nice."

As much as he tried to block his ears, he couldn't hide enough from the biting cut of Cloud's delivery of the line... "Be a good fly and buzz off," and "Jeanie's" sad response of... "He loves me."

As Cloud left the stage, Claude didn't think he imagined the narrow-eyed glare that he received in passing. Oh... he was going to hear about this one from his spiritual son, later, of that he had no doubt.

But now... now it was Crissy's turn to squirm as her character, too, brushed Jeanie aside in favor of hanging around the Waverly to wait for her biker. Wincing, she muttered, "Damn it. This just _had_ to make it in here, didn't it Jeanie? My G-d... was I ever really that stupid?"

Woof wrapped an arm around her and placed a gentle kiss on her head, "You were never that stupid, Crissy. Young and innocent, sure. A little naïve? Maybe. But never stupid."

Crissy turned a grateful smile up at the older man, "Thanks, Woof. You're sweet."

Once the Frank Mills song was done, "Crissy" left the stage and the Tribe started filing back in from the lobby doors. They'd had a costume change for the be-in and they were handing out flowers as they went, smiling beatifically and singing a song about the merits of smoking pot. Berger loved every minute of it. Claude was fine initially... then started squirming again when he saw his "parents" join the hippies on stage. They started expounding on the evils of sex and drugs. Easy enough to ignore... until his "father" proclaimed in a broken voice, "My son doesn't like me. He... he doesn't like me."

Claude felt those words like a punch to the gut... and the next ones like a knife through the heart. "But he is willing to go to Viet Nam and die for his country... and I'm proud of him!"

Heart pounding, Claude curled around that unexpected pain. He'd never... he'd never had a chance to make peace with his father. The entire time he'd been in Kansas, they'd hardly spoken. He'd disappointed the man, he could tell. But he'd never understood _why_. And it was this giant pink elephant that was in the room with them every time they were together. His inability to keep a girlfriend... settle down... have children... to be the man his father wanted him to be. No matter what he did, he'd never been good enough. Never good enough... He'd **never** made his father proud... and now he knew that the one time he'd tried, it had nearly destroyed his life.

Vaguely, he became aware of Crissy's voice murmuring at him to take deeper breaths and keep his head tucked between his knees. A hand was gently rubbing circles around his back. Lifting his head slightly, he saw Crissy's worried face in front of him where she knelt on the floor, talking softly. Firmly telling himself he was _not_ going to pass out, Claude gave her a somewhat sick, though grateful smile, "Thanks, Crissy. I think... I think I'm OK, now."

Eyes full of relief, Crissy nodded and crept back to her chair. Berger leaned down to whisper in his ear, "Claudio... what the hell?"

Claude gingerly shook his head, "Later, Berger. I'll tell you later, OK?"

Unhappy, but unwilling to push, Berger settled back as Claude sat up. The Tribe on stage was dancing around in an orgy of wild abandon as, one by one, they burned their draft cards. Once "Berger" had burned his, Cloud was the only one left. Dionne's character enticed him forwards, calling out to their Aquarius... and he came as though entranced. Staring out at the audience, he slowly lowered his card towards the flames... and at the last moment, pulled it back.

Even knowing that it was coming, Claude gasped in horror along with the rest of the audience. To this day, he still didn't know why he hadn't done it. Why he hadn't told the officers at the induction center that he slept with men... why he hadn't run away with Berger to Canada. As though sensing his thoughts taking another downward spiral, Berger wrapped an arm around him and pulled his head down to rest on his shoulder. It was a good thing he did, too... or he'd never have made it through the rest of that first act. Because that last song... oh, dear G-d, that last song... First the fist to the stomach, then a knife through the heart... and that last song was a kick in the balls. Scratch all those nice things he was going to do for Jeanie. After this set of emotional blows... she owed _him_. So far gone was he in the memories of that emotional anguish that he didn't even notice when the rest of the cast stripped entirely naked... right there on the stage.

Berger did, though, and prodded him back upright until he looked. Sheila's soft voice sounded off to his right, "Oh... my..."

Dionne's satisfied purr answered her, "Oh my, in _deed_. Jeanie, you are one ballsy chick... and that is for _damned_ sure."

Once the song ended, the stage went dark and the house lights came up. Intermission at last. Claude barely waited for everyone to notice that the act had ended before biting out an "Excuse me," and bolting from his chair for the relative safety of the bathroom.

Berger watched him go with wide eyes, "Well... _shit_. I thought _I_ was supposed to be the problem tonight."

Sheila sighed, "I think those last few scenes hit him harder than he expected they would." At Berger's confused look, she elaborated, "Berger... if I still know Claude half as well as I once did, then there's a lot of this past that he never dealt with. He's been running from it... like he does everything else. He wasn't ready to face it and it's probably been a little too much for him. I'd say we should give him a minute to calm down, then one of you should go after him before he gets himself well and truly tangled over it."

Hud frowned, "One of us?"

Crissy snorted, "Well, Sheila, Dionne or I _could_ follow him into the men's room... but that might cause a bit of a scandal."

Berger sighed, "Good point."

However, before he could volunteer to the be the one to go, Hud stood up, "I'll go. I think... Somehow, I think he'll handle this a little better coming from me." Steadily meeting Berger's eyes, he silently asked permission.

Berger slowly nodded, "Yeah... maybe you're right, Hud. Just... I'll come down with you and wait outside, in case you need me, OK?"

A nod, "Agreed." With that decision made, the two headed down the stairs to go do what they could for their wayward friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:**
> 
> Claude: Really? I mean... _really_? You haven't had enough of dumping on me, yet?
> 
> R-chan: *deadpan* No.
> 
> Claude: *whimper*
> 
> R-chan: *sigh* Oh for goodness' sake... It gets better at the end of this fic, OK?
> 
> Claude: O_O That's what you said with the last one! And the one before that! *pause* O_O And the one before **that**!
> 
> R-chan: *archly* And did I lie?
> 
> Claude: *opens mouth to retort, then deflates* *grumps* No... I guess not.
> 
> R-chan: *smirk* So if I tell you it'll get better...
> 
> Claude: *pout* It'll get better.
> 
> R-chan: *kotc* Exactly!
> 
> Berger: *sneaks over to the chibi* Exactly... _how_ much better?
> 
> R-chan: *eg* Why Sexy-Berger... you read my mind.
> 
> Berger: *cheers* Yes!
> 
> Claude: *sweatdrop* I... think I don't want to know.
> 
> Questions, comments, passionfruit?
> 
> Berger: *snickers* Don't mind if I do...
> 
>  _Coming Soon:_ And the show must go on! Once we have Claude settled back in his seat and the immediate crisis is averted, Act II begins. And eventually, our beloved characters find some small measure of peace as regards this past... which is just as well. Especially as we have a few unexpected surprises to dole out for when the show is over!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _April 28, 2010:_** I'm sorry this didn't go up yesterday. When I first wrote this, I wasn't totally satisfied with the end but ended up stopping it there anyway because... well, I got lazy. :-P I'm not feeling lazy anymore, though, and it was starting to feel rushed and a little contrived at the end. So, I just chopped the last page and a half off this part to segregate out into a part 6, which _hopefully_ I'll get done today. If not, I'm _really_ sorry. I don't like posting stories that aren't finished. *sigh* Oh well. Soon, I'm sure. ^_^

  
**Hair, Part 5**   
_by[Renee-chan](mailto:chibi1723@hotmail.com)_   


Having found the bathroom not exactly the private haven he'd been hoping for, Claude had splashed some water on his face then fled that, too. Damn it. He fumbled around in his pocket for his ticket, relieved when he found it. Once he knew he could get back in, he fled the theatre for the outside. Taking in huge gulps of the warm, night air, Claude rested wearily against the side of the building, trying to get his thoughts together.

A gentle hand landed on his shoulder, startling him out of all proportion to reality. None of the Tribe knew where he'd gone... Turning around, he met the worried eyes of Jeanie's son. Cloud just looked at him for a moment, then wordlessly enveloped him in a tight hug. And Claude found himself clinging to the younger man just as tightly. Cloud's voice whispered harshly in his ear, "Jesus, Uncle Claude... I'm sorry. I didn't realize this would be so hard for you."

After taking a few moments to get his head back in order, Claude pulled back, taking in a shuddering breath, "Not your fault. I... I should have been ready for that. I just... I was so busy worrying about my memories of being drafted that I forgot to worry about my memories of my parents. I guess it just caught me off guard."

Cloud nodded, eyes sad, "To tell you the truth, it's the one part of this thing that I have trouble connecting to. I've lived my whole life with this incredible support network: mom, Aunt Crissy, Aunt Dionne, Uncle Hud... and when I was younger, the whole rest of the Tribe. I never had a doubt that I was loved, that whoever I turned out to be, it would be OK. I knew they would all love me, regardless." Dropping his eyes, he whispered, "Jesus... I can't even imagine what it would be like to grow up without that certainty."

Claude shrugged, "It was all I ever knew. I never even thought to question it."

"It's no wonder you don't care whether or not you have kids." At Claude's raised eyebrow, Cloud continued, "In your life, that parent-child bond wasn't the most loving relationship you had. It was the ones you had with Uncle Berger... Aunt Sheila... my mom... the rest of the Tribe." Smiling sadly, he gripped Claude's shoulder, "OK... I think I get it, now."

An uncomfortable silence quickly settled between them and Cloud fidgeted. He was unused to seeing Claude so depressed, so lost... even when he hadn't known who he was, he'd been strong. Even when he'd been baring his soul to his class, there had been an underlying core of strength. Now... that was all absent. It was almost like he'd retreated back into being his teenaged self -- a boy who didn't know who he was or where he was going. A boy so afraid to be himself that he would rather let his father's wishes get him killed. It was eerie and Cloud didn't like it.

Finally, his lips twitched upwards. _I may get stung for my efforts... but I'm going to swat this hornet's nest and see what I wake up..._ Crossing his arms over his chest and letting his face settle into an irritated expression, Cloud said, "So... Uncle Claude. One other thing I've been meaning to ask..."

Claude shrugged, still barely paying attention. Well, that would never do... "That bit about being a good fly and buzzing off... was my mom exaggerating that or were you really that much of an ass?"

The older man jerked back as though stung, eyes wide and hurt. _Come on, Uncle Claude... take the bait... If I can't wake you up out of this, you're never going to survive the second act._

After a minute of staring into Cloud's narrowed eyes, Claude huffed out a small laugh and shook his head. Cloud breathed a sigh of relief as the other man answered, "In my defense, I had a lot on my mind then. But you're right... I _was_ an ass. I've already resolved to do something really nice for your mom after all this is done. I'm reminded that I owe her... a lot."

At that moment, a bell dinged from inside and Cloud bit out a curse, "Oh shit. I gotta go get ready for Act II." Pausing to grip Claude's shoulder, he stared intently into the other man's eyes, "Are you gonna be OK?"

Claude smiled that same sad smile at him, "Yeah. I'll be all right. I think I'm a little more ready for this, now." At Cloud's still worried look, he rolled his eyes, "I solemnly promise that I will not pass out on you in the front row."

Smiling, Cloud gave the other man's shoulder one last squeeze, "Good. Tell the others I said, 'Hi,' OK?" With that last, he fled back through the stage door.

Claude watched him go with a grateful smile, then turned to look over his shoulder at the man who'd come up behind him, "Been there long?"

Berger shrugged and offered him a sheepish grin, "Long enough. Kid seemed to have a pretty good handle on you, so I didn't want to interfere." Stepping up, he rested a hand against Claude's cheek and repeated Cloud's earlier question, "You gonna be OK?"

Smiling softly, Claude nodded, "Yeah... I'm gonna be OK. I finally remembered what I told you 2 months ago. It's just a play, it's not real -- not anymore, anyway." Squaring his shoulders, he said, "And like they tell us at the Veterans' Center all the time... they're only memories. Memories can't hurt you unless you let them."

Leaning forward, Berger planted a chaste kiss on Claude's lips, "OK, Claudio. I believe you. Now let's go back in and finish this thing, shall we?"

Nodding in agreement, Claude wrapped an arm around Berger's waist. Berger let his arm drop to rest around Claude's shoulders. Entwined and supporting each other, they headed back in.

  


* * *

Fortunately, the second act was just starting when the pair slipped back into their seats and that forestalled any questions the others might have had. Berger hissed at them all, "He's fine. I'm fine. Let's just watch the show, OK?"

At that point, the house lights went down and the stage lights went up. After the intensity of Cloud's last song, the lighthearted, bluesy tune that they started up was extremely welcome. And Claude had a feeling that that was exactly why Jeanie had started this act that way. She seemed to be taking a cue from Sheila and Berger's description of their relationship with him: this play was a rollercoaster. Whenever things started getting too intense, she would drop in a lighthearted moment or even something ridiculously hysterical to break the tension. Well, Claude was just glad of the chance to breathe, because in spite of his words to Berger and Cloud, he was afraid he wouldn't be able to keep those promises.

Still, he smiled along with everyone else as "Berger" ran around the stage, interrupting the dancers and demanding that the musicians turn up the amps. Next to him, Berger smiled, proud of his alter ego's antics, "Man, I have _got_ to meet this guy."

Just as the guitarist was really starting to whale out some amazing riffs and Berger was ready to get up and start dancing in the aisle... the lights went dead. Immediately, there started a steady murmuring in the audience and up on stage. Sheila leaned over, "Did they blow a circuit breaker? Talk about a stroke of wicked bad luck..."

Dionne winced, "Poor Jeanie... Oh boy, does this suck or what?"

On stage, someone's voice broke out above the rest to sum up what they were all thinking, "What the **fuck**?"

Another voice yelled out, "I was **singing**!"

A third chorused, "Where's the fuse box?"

At this point, the audience started to catch on and Berger started to laugh, "Holy shit... I think this is part of the show, guys!"

As though to confirm Berger's guess, a fourth voice yelled from the stage, "Nah, the whole city went dead."

The entire cast then shouted, "New York City blackout!!"

The audience erupted in laughter. Most of them were old enough to remember the great blackout of '65. Claude sure did. It had been almost exactly a year before he met Berger and the Tribe. He'd still been living at home, going to school like a good little automaton. And that night... it had been one of the few times in his youth that his family had spent any actual quality time together. Gentled by the darkness and buoyed by the candlelight, he and his parents had spent hours just sitting around and talking... sharing stories. And in the glow of the firelight, his parents had seemed different. He could _almost_ grasp that these bitter older people had once been young... had once been like him... had once had dreams of their own. Of course, he'd lost that understanding in the bright fluorescent light of the next day. Looking back, he had to wonder how his life might have been different if he'd been able to look past his own nose long enough to maintain that connection...

Forcing his attention back to the stage, he heard "Berger" saying, "Man... I'm bummed. Where's Claude?"

"Sheila's" immediate response was, "He's all right! I'm sure of it." You got the impression that she'd given that response fairly often recently. The bright light of a score of flashlights started illuminating various spots around the stage.

"Woof's" voice rang out, "He should have burned his draft card at the be-in..."

"Berger" apparently, had heard that response once too often, "Yeah. Three days I looked for him, man. _Three days._ All over the city like a maniac." Claude was unsurprised to find Berger's hand in his halfway through that statement, gripping tightly. He remembered those days. He'd spent them in a drugged out fugue, numb to the world around him, caught in an ever-widening spiral of horrified disbelief as he realized... no matter what he did, this was going to happen. He was going to Viet Nam... and he was going to die. He'd been so terrified of disappointing his father that he couldn't even see the obvious way out that had been staring him in the face. And he hadn't even considered what his absence must have done to his friends.

Before he could even open his mouth, however, Berger's lips found his in the darkness. It was a moment's thought to take advantage of that darkness to engage in a more thorough kiss than they would have dared otherwise. When he leaned back, Berger whispered, "Forgiven, forgotten, Claudio. All this was over years ago. OK? How about we stop apologizing for every little thing this play brings to mind and just each think of something..." Claude could clearly hear the smirk in his lover's voice, "... _nice_ to do for each other later, OK?"

Claude huffed out a laugh, "OK."

Sheila poked him in the side, "Hey... what about me? You gonna do something _nice_ for me, too?"

Before either of them had a chance to answer, Georgie's voice whispered harshly from behind them, "Oh my _G-d_ , Mom! I can't believe you just said that. I'm _so_ telling Dad!"

At that, and Sheila's resultant horrified spluttering, Berger and Claude dissolved into laughter. Georgie huffed, "Yeah, I had a feeling you guys all forgot we were back here. Now would you just shut up? Some us are trying to watch the show, you know."

Chastised and contrite, the three did so just in time to catch "Jeanie's" suggestion that they conjure "Claude." Claude leaned over to Berger, "Holy crap... did she really do that?"

Before Berger could answer, however, Kelly and Georgie kicked their seats from behind. This time it was Kelly that hissed, "Seriously, guys! Shut up!" Then leaning over to Georgie, she whispered, "Jesus, it's worse than having kids!"

Cheeks flaming, Claude and Berger hunched down in their seats as Georgie added, "Yeah, well at least your dad is behaving. My mom's as bad as they are! I tell you... I'm embarrassed." At those words, Sheila hunched down, too.

Fortunately, by then, Cloud was back on stage and the lights were back on. "Hud" stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder, "Claude, baby... how are you?"

Before he had a chance to answer, however, "Berger" stepped into the silence with an accusatory, "Yeah. Where you been, man?"

Their eyes met in silent communion, a world of apology and explanation passing between them in that one glance. Eventually, Cloud explained that he'd been to 39 Whitehall Street. What ensued was a greatly exaggerated version of what Claude had once explained to Jeanie as what he _wished_ he'd done that day. When it was over, "Berger" asked quietly, eyes knowing, "Was that how it was?"

Cloud ducked his eyes, figure hunching in on himself as he miserably shook his head. Before anyone else could ask a question, though, his head shot up, an almost fatalistic desperation in his eyes. Claude remembered that feeling, all too well.

"I was out in the jungle... meditating. I went so deep inside myself... I even cleaned my room! I'm giving some stuff away..." Even though the audience laughed, Claude felt his stomach take another little swoop at that line. He remembered... oh, how he remembered. He'd brought those things to the Tribe, certain that he was going to leave them... certain that he was going to die... and needing them to have a piece of himself to hold onto for when he was gone.

Everyone on stage was caught up in the gift giving... everyone but one significant person. With each passing thing that was given away, "Berger's" face fell further and further. When Cloud gave "Woof" his poster of Mick Jagger, that was the final straw. "Berger" stepped closer, a look of panic on his face, "What... what's up with you, man?" _He_ knew what Cloud was doing... even if the others didn't. But he didn't get an answer to his question. "Woof" had stolen the limelight, gladly expounding on his love for Mick Jagger.

Desperate, in his own way, to focus on something other than what was going on on stage, Claude leaned over and waved at Woof. Before he could even ask the question, though, Woof smiled a sheepish grin, "Yes, I still have it, but it's not in my bedroom. He's framed and has a whole wall shrine in my office at the store. Didn't I show you?" At Claude's headshake, he shrugged, "Oops. Next time. It wouldn't be right of me not to grant you visitation rights, after all."

Laughing, Claude leaned back. On stage, Cloud was slapping "Woof" on the back, "You got **life** , man!" He then went over to "Berger" and wrapped a hand around the back of the other man's neck, "Berger... _you_ got life!" "Berger" took the opportunity to wrap the other boy in a tight hug and slide a leg between his. Claude could only shake his head in resignation. Jeanie hadn't been kidding... Cloud then flung an arm wide and yelled, " **I** got life, man!"

Apparently, though... a few of the female Tribe members didn't agree. After a little bit of squinting and thinking, Claude finally figured out that the three girls who stepped forward had to be Suzanne, Jackie and June. They pulled three of the black men from the Tribe and started singing a... hmm... less than politically correct song about the merits of black boys. Hud just leaned back in his chair and smiled.

That song then segued into another -- this one led by "Dionne" -- about the merits of white boys. By then the audience was in stitches again. When the song came to a close, "Berger" stepped forward, holding a box that Claude recognized all too well. He groaned, "Oh G-d... we're really doing this, aren't we?"

Berger laughed, "Apparently, so."

Sheila leaned over, "What? Doing what?"

Claude bent his head towards her, keeping his voice down in an effort to not to get yelled at by the kids again, "Jeanie warned me that most of the second act is that freaking bizarre-ass acid trip I took the night before the induction center picked me up."

Sheila's eyes widened, "Oh... boy. That'll be interesting."

Sighing, Claude let his head drop back onto Berger's shoulder, "Yeah... that's one word for it."

They all laughed at "Jeanie's," "As Mary once said... 'Jesus, I'm gettin' stoned.'"

And then... "Berger" gave Cloud that "special" joint. Claude lifted his head long enough to scowl at his lover. Kelly chose that moment to lean forward and tap them on the shoulder, "Hey, Uncle Berger... is this that time that--"

Claude interrupted the question with a, "Yes, Kelly. Now _you_ shush."

As Kelly leaned back, they could both hear Georgie say, "OK, spill. What time was this?"

Kelly giggled, "Well, apparently, Uncle Berger laced that joint with LSD in an effort to freak Uncle Claude out so he'd run away to Canada with him."

Eyes widening, Georgie nodded, "I see..."

Claude sighed as he poked Berger in the ribs, "Yeah, with friends like you, Banana-Berger..."

Back up on stage, the Tribe was simulating a true, full-on Tribal smoke-fest and orgy. Cloud had his head in "Sheila's" lap and "Berger" was settled between his legs, intertwining them with his own. Claude recognized the posture immediately -- he and Berger still sat like that sometimes. "Berger" was leaning over the other man, hair forming a curtain around them both. And in spite of everything else going on on the stage, in spite of the fact that there was some beautiful singing and choreography going on elsewhere... he and Berger only had eyes for their counterparts.

As "Berger" leaned back again, Cloud took another puff of the joint, then reached up to entwine his arms around "Berger's" neck to pull him back down. He then blew some of the smoke up into "Berger's" mouth... then pulled him down for a kiss. Of course... if anyone would have obliged Jeanie in that, it would be Cloud. Next to him, Sheila harrumphed and muttered something to the effect of, " _Definitely_ feeling like chopped liver, here..."

Dionne laughed, "Honey, I think you've been demoted from chopped liver to furniture. Neither of those boys even knows you're there."

Sheila turned to her friend and scowled, "Thanks, Dionne. You're a peach."

As the song wound down, Claude could feel himself tense. He had the misfortune to now remember this trip in exquisite detail and had no real desire to see it brought to life in front of him on stage. As the sound of helicopters and gunfire filled the theatre, he couldn't help but jump, then bury his face in Berger's shoulder. Berger pulled him closer, immediately raising his hands to help Claude cover his ears. Not long, not long, not long...

When he felt Berger's chest move in a small snort, he raised his head. Seeing that they were now safely into the George Washington segment, he pulled away from Berger a bit. Sheila was snickering next to him, "I'm George _Washington_? Jesus, Claude... what the hell?"

Groaning, Claude just shook his head, "Oh... it gets worse. Berger's Ulysses S. Grant, Woof was Scarlet O'Hara, Jeanie was General Custer, Abraham Lincoln was a black woman... and I think Aretha Franklin was there, too."

Sheila could only giggle in response. Claude shrugged helplessly and waved her attention back to the stage. He had to admit... the opening scenes of that trip were actually pretty funny. Unbelievably fucked up... but funny. Looking back, he could certainly see the amusement. Judging from the smattering of giggles around the theatre, so could everyone else.

It wasn't until the soldiers came back that things took a turn again for the worse. Claude remembered that... remembered it all too well. With the faces of unfamiliar soldiers interspersed with those of his friends, all grasping, pulling, pushing, raking at him... he'd really believed himself to be dying. Almost funny... at that moment when he'd been most terrified, he'd called out for Berger, some part of him still desperately hoping that his friend could somehow make all of this better.

As the scene drifted up out of his trip to focus on the Tribe again, he noticed that Cloud was supine on the ground, "Berger" sprawled on top of him, no doubt trying to protect him even then. Berger leaned over, "Oh, man, Claude... I had no idea it was that bad... I'm sorry, man."

Claude gripped his hand tighter, "It's OK. Forgiven, forgotten, right, Banana-Berger?"

He shook his head, "But it isn't." At Claude's raised eyebrow, he flushed, "You flashback on this trip, sometimes, Claudio. I've seen it. You can't say 'forgiven, forgotten' if you can't forget it."

Letting out a heavy sigh, Claude shook his head, "Well, definitely forgiven, anyway, all right? I understand why you did it and that's good enough for me. Besides... it wasn't _all_ bad. The bit with Abraham Lincoln was pretty damned funny, actually."

As the Tribe finished their songs about the war, the scene faded back into Claude's drug trip with a gentle song based off Shakespeare: "What A Piece of Work is Man." Ironically enough... in spite of how terrified and freaked out he'd been through the rest of the trip, Claude remembered... this was the part that had actually broken him. Halfway through Paris and Maya's recitation of that poetry, he'd finally broken down and cried. It was the first time since he'd disappeared from the Tribe three days earlier that he'd truly been able to feel something. That moment of beauty had broken through the numbness -- ironically, what Berger had probably been aiming for the whole time. As Cloud curled up on the ground sobbing, the scene rose up out of his trip for the last time.

The rest of the Tribe clustered in around him. "Woof," "Sheila" and "Jeanie" were at his back, stroking his hips and legs. "Berger" had Cloud's head in his lap and was cradling him, gently stroking his hair. They'd known something was wrong... they'd always known. And that night... for that one brief moment, when he'd first woken up out of that horrific trip surrounded and cradled in the comforting arms of those he loved... he'd never in his life felt so safe. It almost made the rest of it worth it. Of course, it couldn't last.

Cloud stretched, face a moue of unhappiness, before jerking awake the rest of the way and pulling away from the Tribe. "Berger" kept a hand on him, sheltering him even though he clearly no longer wanted it. Once he saw that Cloud was well and truly awake, though, he backed off. Their gazes met, again sharing a world of communication in that one look. Cloud's eyes filled with hurt betrayal, "Oh my G-d... what did you put in that joint?"

Finally understanding that he'd fucked up, in spite of having been trying to do the right thing, "Berger" retreated behind his wall of joking behavior, "Face reality... Shakespeare."

And that had been it. That had been the moment when Claude realized that he could no longer live like Berger did. That _no one_ could live like Berger did... not even Berger. This... it wasn't a way to live. It was a way to die. And if Berger's way would kill him... and his father's way would kill him... and he had no other way to follow... then that was it. That was the moment that he knew, with absolute certainty, that he was trapped... that there would be no way out for him. No matter which way he turned, he was going to die. He'd tried to tell Berger that that night. But for the first time in a long time, it had been like they were speaking two completely different languages. Berger couldn't understand him and he couldn't understand Berger. It was like someone had taken the other man away from him... and he'd never in his life felt so bereft.

It was strange, really. In a way, they'd both gotten what they wanted that night. Berger had wanted to stay high -- and he had. For 12 years he'd been high, lost to drugs and madness. And Claude... he'd wanted to be invisible. And he had been. Torn away from all of his friends, invisible in his own life, invisible in his own mind... for 12 years, he'd ceased to exist. But there had been no beauty in that, no miracles. No joy.

Reaching out, his hand found Berger's, squeezing tightly, grounding them both in the present. _This_ was reality. Berger wasn't high and he wasn't invisible. They were **here** and they were known and seen. It was better... far better than anything else he could have ever wanted. Suddenly, in spite of the desperate drama unfolding in front of them on stage... Claude smiled. He couldn't seem to stop grinning. Berger caught the expression and frowned, "What... Claudio? You OK?"

Claude pulled Berger's hand closer, planting a gentle kiss on the palm. With a soft laugh, he nodded, "Yeah... I'm OK, Berger. I'm _better_ than OK." He understood now. He _finally_ understood again, what he'd grasped so briefly at the very beginning. Everything else... getting tenure, Viet Nam, the rift with his parents... the necessity of money... none of it mattered. Absolutely none of it. The only thing that mattered... was Berger. Berger and the Tribe. If he had them, that was all he needed. They made him visible. They made him real. They kept him warm at night and made him feel safe. It had taken him almost 20 years and Jeanie's unique sense of vision to see it... but now he understood. And he wasn't going to forget again.

He turned Berger's palm to lay it flat against his chest, right over his heartbeat, and cradled it to him with one hand. Lifting the other, he laid it against Berger's cheek and smiled into the other man's eyes. On stage, Cloud was asking "Sheila" to marry him. And in his silent gaze, Claude was returning to Berger the same question... and at the same time affirming Berger's own answer from earlier that day. _Someday... Someday we **will**._ It didn't matter anymore, why Berger had initially tried to push him at Sheila. It didn't matter anymore, who else he'd loved or who else had loved him. And as easy as that... watching the remainder of the show was no longer painful. It was beautiful. Because no matter what else it meant... every single one of those events, piled on each other, had brought him to this moment. This moment when he had everything that he had ever wanted... and was happier than he had ever thought he could be.

And suddenly, Berger was too far away. Tugging on the other man's hand, he dragged them both onto the floor. Understanding what he wanted without being asked, Berger leaned back against the bottom of his seat and spread his legs so that Claude could sit between them. He then cradled him back against his chest, allowing Claude to tuck his head under the other man's chin while Berger wrapped his arms tightly around him. They might no longer have a perfect view... but Claude couldn't have cared less if he tried.

Up on stage, Cloud and "Berger" were unconsciously mirroring what they were doing on the floor. Cloud was on his knees, holding "Sheila's" hand and "Berger" was bent over, arms wrapped tightly around Cloud with his head buried in Cloud's stomach... holding on for dear life. Of course... he'd known back then. He'd known then that he was going to lose him. That's why he'd been so clingy the rest of that night... Even though he knew it would mean nothing, some part of Claude still wanted to reassure that man... that someday, it would all be better. Someday...

It was easier now, to find the smiles for what was going on onstage. The moment "Sheila" walked away from the pair, they tumbled down onto the floor of the stage, rolling around with each other and lazily making out. Berger leaned down and whispered in his ear, "You know, Claudio... that doesn't seem like such a bad idea..."

Claude huffed out a quiet laugh and turned his head upwards to plant an open-mouthed kiss on the underside of Berger's chin. Then he patted one of the arms wrapped so tightly around him, "Much as I agree... I think Jeanie really would kill us. There'll be time later, OK?" Berger grumbled at him, but settled down.

On stage, "Berger" told Cloud that they were going to smuggle him up to Canada after the protest. Cloud put on a smile for him, but the minute that "Berger" engulfed him in that hug, tucking his head over Cloud's shoulder... Cloud's expression deadened again. He knew he wasn't going to Canada. He wasn't going to Canada... he wasn't going to the protest. When this night was over, he was going to the induction center... he was going to Viet Nam... and he was going to die. Claude could almost see it as the numbness settled in again.

As they raised him up for the reprise of "Ain't Got No," Claude almost laughed. With everything that was going on... not only had Cloud remembered to change his social security number again... he'd changed it to the same numbers. As impressed as he'd been with everything else the boy had done tonight, that he'd remembered that little detail, after _everything_... well, damn. That was a miracle.

Cloud disappeared somehow from the middle of the group as they started up the protest scene. "Berger"... he looked awfully distracted, though. Claude frowned. It almost looked like the man was forgetting his lines, forgetting where he was supposed to stand. He kept bumping into people, weaving around as though drunk. It wasn't until he heard Berger's indrawn breath behind him and felt his arms tighten around him that he understood. That broken, lost look... that was scripted. Eventually, his pacing growing ever more frantic, "Berger" yelled out, "Sheila!!"

She stepped forward, grabbing at his hands, "I'm right here, Berger!"

He yanked his hands out of hers, almost angrily, "Where the **hell** were you? I can't find Claude!" Before she could open her mouth to reassure him with her own empty words, "Berger" broke away from her and screamed out, "Claude! **Claude**!!"

Behind him, Berger started to shake. Claude couldn't blame him. The kid was an unbelievable actor -- he could almost hear Berger's soul breaking in his voice. So, he did the only thing he could do. He laced the fingers of his right hand with Berger's, then took Berger's left hand and slid it under his shirt to rest against his heartbeat. Silently, he added, _I'm here, Berger. I'm real. **Me**._ He waited one heartbeat... two heartbeats... three heartbeats... and finally, Berger relaxed, burying his face in the nape of Claude's neck. Claude couldn't even find it within himself to complain as Berger lightly clamped his teeth around that spot on Claude's neck that he so loved. Whatever the other man needed to stay grounded... within reason... he could have.

On stage, Cloud finally reappeared... dressed in an Army uniform.

"I'm right here!" His voice quieted, almost disappeared altogether, "Like it or not... they got me."

He started singing, eyes dead, voice dark... lost. Several lines into the song, he stopped and yelled, "Berger! I feel like I died!"

It became obvious, right after that, that no one on that stage could see him. He was invisible, just like he'd wanted. And "Berger"... he was devastated. He yelled out again, "Claude! **Claude**!!"

Cloud ran over to him, reached out to touch him... and then seemed to realize that he couldn't. He'd never be able to again. A smile graced his lips at that moment... and there was nothing left of sanity in it, "If I am invisible... then I can perform miracles! There is nothing else I want to do on this dirt!" In counterpoint to his increasingly insane ramblings, were "Berger's" continued desperate cries of his name, now echoed by the rest of the Tribe.

Eyes desolate, Cloud sang a refrain of "Manchester, England," running back over to "Berger's" now hunched form to hover around him... so close, but not touching. Never touching again. As that refrain drew to a close, the much longed for snow finally began to fall... and "Sheila" picked up the verse that Cloud had come out singing. The Tribe closed ranks around him, hiding him once again from view.

"Berger" looked even more lost. He missed the men's entrance as they shifted to the next song, then shook himself and tried again. A few words in, he choked and bit his lip, clearly trying to hold back tears. Behind him, Berger's teeth tightened on his neck, his left hand roaming almost desperately across his chest, his right sliding their joined hands under his thigh to give him leverage to pull Claude closer. Instead of protesting, Claude merely slid his left hand behind him to grip Berger's side and help draw them closer. It was impossible for him to miss the trembling in the other man's body. All he could do, though... was hold on.

And sure enough... as the Tribe began to disperse, each leaving the stage and filing funereally out the back doors... there was Cloud. Laying out flat on the stage on an American flag, arms crossed over his chest... at peace, at last. The stage went dark.

For a minute, there wasn't a single sound in that theatre but Berger's harsh breathing in his ear. Unable to stand another minute of his lover's silent suffering, Claude tore himself out of Berger's embrace and turned to straddle his lap. Once he had Berger's full attention, he joined their lips, silently urging his partner to take the offered bait. The other man's lips were lax against his for a moment, then he finally... _finally_ seemed to come back to life and crushed Claude to him in a desperate embrace, plunging his tongue into the other man's mouth to twine with his own. Claude all but melted against him in pure relief.

Then, just when things were starting to get interesting... the band struck up a rousing reprise of the title song and the stage lights went back up full. Berger and Claude guiltily jumped away from each other, each silently wondering if Jeanie had seen them... and done that on purpose. Cheeks flaming, Claude climbed back into his seat, Berger beside him.

The Tribe came back out onstage to accept the now resounding applause and to direct said applause to the band. But... where was Cloud? It took another moment but when he came back out, the reason for his delay was obvious -- he'd changed clothes again, back into his jeans and long-sleeved shirt and back into his original hairstyle. He raced out onto the stage and leapt at a beaming "Berger," and Sheila-style, wrapped his legs around the other man's waist and bent his head for a kiss. Trauma finally firmly averted, Berger jumped to his feet at that and let out a whooping cheer. The rest of the audience leapt to their feet cheering right along with him.

When the two lead actors finally broke apart, the cast broke into a rousing reprise of the chorus from the title song... and then started clambering down into the audience. And sure enough, they were dragging people back onto the stage with them! Jeanie had also made her way out from backstage and was dancing with "herself," hair flying wild and an expression of joyous abandon on her face. Cloud leaned over to whisper something in "Berger's" ear, then grinning wildly at each other, they both dropped down off the stage into the front row.

Dionne, Hud, Sheila, Woof and Crissy had gotten up on stage and found Jeanie, as had all of the kids, leaving Claude and Berger alone with their doppelgangers. Cloud had an arm wrapped around his Berger as they walked over. When they got to the other pair, Cloud waved an arm at them, "Adam, these are the two I wanted you to meet."

The other Berger -- whose name was apparently Adam -- grinned widely at them, "Oh... 'Mom' and her make-out buddy! Man, I gotta say... you two were putting out enough heat that we could feel it onstage! Once or twice it almost felt like we were in a competition with you guys!"

Cloud laughed as Claude's face flushed again, "Yeah... they've been known to do that on occasion."

Berger just wrapped his arms around Claude and offered them a beaming grin, "Can you blame me?" Eyes twinkling, he nodded his head at the other two men, "Besides, you seem to have an equally hard time keeping your hands off _your_ Claude."

Adam blinked, confused, " _My_ Claude?" He whipped a quick look at Cloud, then back to the other men, "His name is Claude, too?"

Cloud smirked, then finally introduced them, "Adam... you remember how I told you once that this show is based on a true story?" At Adam's nod, he said, "Well... these are the real Claude and Berger. And _yes_ , those are their real names."

Adam's mouth dropped open, "Holy shit, for _real_??"

Berger just grinned, "So when you decided that I was your mom, you had no clue?"

Adam shook his head. Then his eyes widened, "Oh! Oh, man... what about the two cool chicks from the beginning of the show?"

Claude smiled, "Crissy and Sheila."

Adam's mouth broke into a beaming smile and he looked like a little kid in a candy store, "For **real** , man? Then... then the others in the front row?"

Cloud nodded, "Woof was next to Crissy and Hud and Dionne were next to Sheila."

Abruptly, Adam frowned, "Wait... then where was Jeanie?"

Cloud laughed, "You mean you never figured that out?" Jeanie chose that moment to lean over and grab Claude and Berger's hands to pull them up on stage with everyone else. Once that was accomplished, leaving Cloud and Adam alone, Cloud cupped the other boy's face and planted a gentle kiss on his lips, "Jeanie is our dear writer and director, Ms. Ryan... and my mother."

"Your... _mother_??"

"Yep! You are looking at the now grown and proud character of 'Jeanie's baby bump!'"

Adam burst out laughing, "Oh man... that's just _awesome_. I can't believe-- huh?" Looking over his shoulder at the tall brown-haired boy that had just tapped him, he arched an eyebrow, "Can I help you?"

Zack just frowned, "Yeah... you can." Ignoring it as Cloud started snickering, he said, "First off, the show's over except for the dancing, so you can _kindly_ take your grabby hands off my boyfriend." Eyes widening and face flushing with embarrassment, Adam did exactly that. Zack just smiled at the ready compliance as he pulled Cloud into his own arms. Once the other boy was secure, he held out a hand to Adam, "Second, my name is Zack. And much as I don't care to admit it... you guys had some unbelievable chemistry up there." As Adam gingerly shook his hand, Zack added, "So, I'll also thank you to take good care of him for me while I'm away at school. Deal?"

Eyes still shocked, Adam could only nod. Cloud grumped good-naturedly, "Fabulous. Now, if you two are done bartering my virtue between you, we're missing all the dancing!"

At that urging, the other two men sighed, then smiled. Between them, they bodily lifted Cloud back up onto the stage, to rousing applause, then climbed up after him. The original Tribe was surrounded by the new Tribe, joyfully sharing their identities with their alter-egos. The cast Tribe was ecstatic, thrilled beyond belief that the rumor they'd heard of the "true" origins of the story were... well... true. As the audience started filtering out of the theatre, Jeanie only reluctantly started pulling them apart to send them out to the stage door to go sign autographs. As she pulled each one away, another would make their way back to ask "just one more question." Finally she threw up her hands in disgust and exclaimed, "It's like trying to herd a flock of demented sheep!"

Claude laughed, then put his fingers to his lips and let out a piercing whistle. Silence immediately fell. He put on a stern face and, in his best teacher voice, said, "That's enough out of all of you! You are professionals. You have a job to do. Go **do** it for Christ's sake!" Then with a gentle smile, he added, "We'll still be here when you get done. You can ask your questions then." The cast let out a resounding cheer and all but stampeded off the stage.

Once they'd all gone, the original Tribe burst out laughing. Crissy wiped a few tears from her eyes, "My G-d... were we ever that energetic?"

A voice rang out from the back of the theatre in answer, "My sweet little sugar plum fairy... you were the worst of all of us!"

The Tribe on stage turned towards the new voice as one and Crissy let out a piercing shriek of pure joy as she leapt off the stage and bounded down the aisle, "Angela!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

The other woman caught her and swung her around in a tight embrace, laughing right along with her. To her left, Suzanne raised her voice over the sounds of that joyous reunion, "And let me speak for _this_ half of the Tribe... we have a few **very** strong words to say to the rest of you about not being told that Claude wasn't dead and that Berger's clearly no longer insane! What the **hell** , people?"

It was almost too much to take in. They were all there! Angela, Suzanne, Walter, Jackie, Paris and Maya... Nicole, Anthony, Ellen and June... Everyone! Surprising just about everyone else, Claude let out his own whoop and leapt from the stage to race up the aisle, too. Berger was hot on his heels. The two halves of the Tribe met in a great crash in the middle of the theatre, each person trying to raise their voice to be heard above the others as reunion after joyous reunion took place.

Jeanie started trying to get everyone's attention and when it became clear that she wasn't going to get it any time soon, she tugged on Claude's sleeve. With an understanding smile, he borrowed a trick from Cloud and Adam and climbed up onto the arms of one of the seats, then let loose with another piercing whistle. Once he had everyone's attention, he smiled and waved at Jeanie, "I believe Ms. Ryan has something she would like to say."

"Well... _ask_ is more like it." All eyes turned towards her and Jeanie flushed, "How the hell did you guys all end up here tonight? Was there some message sent out on the astral plane that I didn't know about?"

Most of the Tribe started laughing while Jackie rolled her eyes, "We _can_ read, Jeanie. Those of us that get the newspaper saw the blurbs for your show and just knew it was about us. We each told everyone that we were still in contact with and whoever doesn't live in New York anymore made plans to come back for the premiere. You honestly thought there was a chance in hell we'd miss an opportunity like this?"

Jeanie shook her head, for once, too overcome for words. Instead, she looked up at Woof and made a wild, incomprehensible gesture. Woof smiled sheepishly in response and ducked his head, "I... might have had some idea. Oh!" Abruptly, he jerked his head up to find Claude, "Speaking of which... Claude, you're gonna want to duck your head out by the stage door. There's someone out there that you're going to want to talk to."

So used to following such vague directions that he didn't even question it, Claude found himself outside before he even realized what he was doing. The cast members were filing their way back in, finally done with autographs and Polaroids, and the crowd was thinning. And through that slowly dispersing crowd, he saw a petite, blond head, frantically searching for someone that she didn't seem to be finding... someone she'd come halfway across the country to find. _Damn you, Woof. A warning would have been nice._

Feeling like the wind had been knocked out of him, Claude could barely get his voice to work enough to say the one word he needed to... but it was enough and she heard it, turning towards him with a look of heartbreaking relief on her face. And that one word?

"Mom..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:**
> 
> And... some extended chibi silliness, because I'm feeling, well... silly. ^_^
> 
> Claude: I give up.
> 
> R-chan: *sweatdrop* Well, the discussion you had with your mom was originally in this chapter, but it was too short and it felt rushed and contrived and Ididn'tlikeit! *huffs*
> 
> Claude: O_O *edges away* Well... if you felt the need to extend it, I suppose that's all right... But can I at least get a heads-up about how she's gonna react?
> 
> R-chan: *crosses arms over chest* That would be cheating.
> 
> Claude: *holds up hands in warding gesture* You know, you're quite right. How about I just leave you alone, now?
> 
> R-chan: *narrows eyes* You're being _awfully_ agreeable all of a sudden... what's going on?
> 
> Berger: *wanders out from the other room with a bed sheet wrapped around his hips* Claudio... I thought you said you wouldn't be long. What's the hold up, man?
> 
> R-chan: *rae* I _see_... *eg*
> 
> Claude: *blush*
> 
> R-chan: *coughs politely* Well, far be it for me to keep you... I'm sure you're both a little frustrated after last chapter...
> 
> Claude: *blushes more*
> 
> Berger: *smirk* Gotta give you props, lady -- you were right about this one, too.
> 
> R-chan: ^________^
> 
> Claude: *twitch* You... you weren't as traumatized as you were acting, were you?
> 
> Berger: *sheepish grin* *shrugs*
> 
> Claude: *doubletwitch* I _knew_ it!
> 
> Berger: *eg* Can you blame me?
> 
> Claude: *sighs* I guess not... Aw, fuck it. *grabs Berger's hand and starts to drag him off*
> 
> Berger: *pause* Wait... I thought you were gonna ask about your Mom...?
> 
> Claude: O_O You know what... she's gonna do what she wants regardless of what we say and if she's gonna do something nasty, I at least wanna have sex first.
> 
> Berger: *cheers* Now, that is my kind of logic! Let's go! *drags Claude off into the bedroom*
> 
> R-chan: *chuckles* Well... that worked out awfully nicely for me... *cracks knuckles* Now to go tackle Chapter 6!
> 
> Questions, comments, strawberries?
> 
> Berger: *snickers* Cloud...?
> 
> Cloud: *tosses over the whipped cream*
> 
> Zack: Hey! We needed that!
> 
> Cloud: *holds up second can*
> 
> Zack: *settles* Oh. Well. OK, then.
> 
>  _Coming Soon:_ And... I don't have a summary, because part 6 isn't written yet. O_O


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _May 4, 2010:_** Good grief. I am _so_ sorry. I knew I should have let this damned story percolate for a day or two before I started posting it. I wasn't satisfied with the end and I knew it even as I wrote it, but I made the mistake of not listening to myself... and then the fic just stopped cooperating. I swear, this one's been more trouble than all the rest put together and I have _no_ idea why. :-P Maybe it's related to Cloud. ^_~ Anyway, I hope you enjoy and thank you all for your patience!
> 
> And do remember... comments and reviews are love! ^_^

  
**Hair, Part 6**   
_by[Renee-chan](mailto:chibi1723@hotmail.com)_   


Jeanie stared around at the chaos with a blissed out smile on her face. When she had originally set out to put her story to paper, she couldn't have possibly imagined that all of these wonderful things would come out of it. Her show had opened to rave reviews. Her son had the start of a bona fide career and would be staying with her. She'd managed to give both Claude _and_ Berger some measure of peace as regards the past. There was a tribal reunion of epic proportions going on in the theatre. But best of all...

Turning her head towards the left hand side of the orchestra, her smile widened at what she saw. Berger was perched on the stairs leading up to the stage, Claude sitting a step below him and leaning back into his lover's embrace, smile glowing like a small sun. In all the time she'd known him, Jeanie didn't think she'd ever seen him look so happy. And why? Because of the woman sitting demurely in one of the orchestra seats opposite him, smiling along with them, an expression of not-quite-belief on her face.

Reaching out a hand to the man sitting behind her on the stage, Jeanie pulled his long arms around her, murmuring quietly, "You did good, Woof. Real good."

Though he obliged her by enfolding her in a gentle embrace and planting a kiss on her temple, Woof shook his head, "I didn't do this." When Jeanie turned a questioning look on him, he shrugged, "I may have seen it coming, but I didn't do this." Expression turning wistful, he smiled, "Man, do I wish I _had_ , though. What a hell of an early birthday present that would have made..."

Jeanie laughed and leaned in closer to press a kiss to the corner of Woof's mouth, "Well, I guess it's the thought that counts, huh?"

"So, if you didn't call her, then who did? Dionne and I were pretty sure it had to be you..." was Crissy's answer as she walked up to join them.

Woof shrugged again, "Nope. Wasn't me."

Jeanie held an arm out to the smaller woman and Crissy climbed up on the stage to curl up against her, "So, if it wasn't you and it wasn't me and it wasn't Jeanie... who got in touch with her?"

Jeanie shrugged, "Maybe she read it in the paper like everyone else."

  


* * *

Claude could practically feel Berger's joy and excitement thrumming through him as he sat behind Claude on the stairs. He'd wandered out of the theatre mere heartbeats after Claude's mother had thrown herself into his arms in breathless excitement, almost sobbing in her relief at having found him. Claude had stood there frozen, arms loosely wrapped around her as she struggled to calm herself. His mind hadn't just tripped, it had stumbled and landed in a tangled up heap. He just couldn't wrap his head around the fact that not only was his mother **here** but she was actually happy to see him.

When she'd finally leaned back, a thousand questions warring for expression in her face, Claude had panicked. In spite of the warm welcome, he was almost terrified of what his mother might have to say. He'd been out of contact for three years, she was bound to be angry. If she was here, she'd almost definitely seen the play -- and consequently now knew about Berger -- and would be angry. His _father_ might be here... and would be even angrier.

Before he'd managed to open his mouth and say something he would regret, however, a pair of strong, warm arms had wrapped around him from behind and a head had hooked over his shoulder, smiling gently, "Oh, hey, look, Claudio! Isn't that your mom?" Ignoring Claude's attempts at a response, Berger had just raised one hand and waved, "Hi, Claude's mom! How was the trip from Kansas? Did you bring the mister with you?"

Though some part of him had desperately wanted to interrupt this thing before it went any further, the rest of Claude had been so glad that Berger had stepped in that he ended up saying nothing. His mother had blushed a little when she realized who Berger must be, but otherwise hadn't commented on it. She'd simply smiled softly and said, "Please, call me Helen. And thank you for asking. The trip was uneventful, though it was my first time on an airplane," meeting Claude's eyes with a sad look in her own warring with the smile, she said, "...and Claude's father unfortunately couldn't make it. He was... he was occupied with business." Left unsaid was the certainty that that was merely an excuse. Not wanting to probe that particular pain, Claude had let the white lie go without comment.

Seeing that Claude wasn't quite capable of handling this unexpected curveball, Berger had wrapped one arm firmly around the other man's waist and had extended his other arm to Claude's mother, "I think it's time we moved this little party inside to join the bigger party, don't you?"

Helen had accepted Berger's offered escort and allowed him to lead them both inside. The pause in the moment, and the fact that his mother seemed anything _but_ angry, had allowed Claude to get his proverbial feet back under him. By the time they'd settled themselves down in the spot Berger had chosen, he'd even figured out how he had to open the conversation. He cleared his throat, "You know... it's almost funny that you're here, Mom. I was actually going to call you tonight..."

His mother let out a silvery laugh and shook her head, "I appreciate the effort, but you don't have to lie for my benefit, Claude. I know you." Looking up to meet his eyes, she said, "You're still my son."

As Berger's laugh erupted from behind him, Claude blushed. Ignoring the other man poking playfully at his cheek and muttering, "Brat," he explained, "I really _was_ going to call you. Tonight was... it was eye-opening in more ways than one." Sighing, he shook his head, "Berger's right. I _was_ a brat -- and a spoiled, ungrateful one at that. And apparently that hasn't changed. There's no excuse. No matter what else was going on, I should have found some time in the last three years to pick up the phone and let you know I was all right."

Reaching out to take one of his hands in hers, Helen smiled gently, "Hindsight is forever perfect, isn't it? The important thing is that I'm here and you _are_ all right. In fact, if I may be so bold as to say it... Claude, this is the first time in over twenty years that I've seen you happy." Pressing her other hand to her chest, she said, "I almost don't care how it happened as long as it did. All a mother ever wants is to see her son happy."

Berger leaned over and pressed a small kiss to the side of Claude's neck, "Forgiven, forgotten, eh, Claudio?"

Claude just smiled, then raised his mother's hand to his lips to give it a gentle kiss before patting it and releasing it. Needing to back away from the moment before he made a total fool of himself by crying, he cleared his throat and asked, "So, Mom... Why... How did you know about the show?"

Smiling self-consciously, Claude's mother pulled an envelope from the confines of her pocketbook. From that envelope, she drew a much folded and creased newspaper article -- it was the review of Jeanie's show from when the press had been allowed into one of the dress rehearsals. She explained, "I received this in the mail last week, along with a ticket for tonight's show and a note explaining that there were things in this show that I should see, things that might help me understand why everything went so wrong that year you were drafted. It also indicated that if I was to be here, I might get a chance to see and talk to you, as you would be here, as well." Eyes flashing, she said, "I was not going to take the chance of disbelieving that and thus missing you. And since that faith seems to have been amply rewarded... I'm glad that I chose to believe."

Feeling Berger go still behind him, Claude wondered at the reason. He reached out his hand for the note and his mother handed it over without comment. And once he saw it... he understood. He knew the handwriting on that note, knew it as well as he knew his own. It was Berger's. Berger had sent this letter to his mother, answering a need that Claude wasn't even aware he'd communicated, and he'd done it all without even letting a hint of it reach Claude. And if his mother had never answered that summons... Berger would never have told him he'd sent it, never have even hinted that he'd been rejected that way. It was the most wonderful gift he'd ever received. Completely overcome by it, Claude turned in the other man's embrace and pulled his head down for a kiss, not even caring that his mother was sitting right there. When he finally leaned back, Berger's eyes were dancing with the happiness of realizing that, for once, he hadn't screwed up. Instead, he'd done something right... _very_ right. Smiling softly, he kissed Claude's nose and murmured, "You're welcome, Claudio."

A polite cough abruptly had Claude blushing and turning back around. At the embarrassed look on his mother's face, he hunched in on himself, suddenly feeling like a teenager again, one who'd just done something worthy of grounding. To her credit, his mother merely cleared her throat and raised an eyebrow, "I presume that your friend didn't exactly take liberties with that part of the choreography, then..."

At that comment, Berger all but choked on his laughter behind him, finally burying it in Claude's back in an effort to control it. And, always one to play to an audience, Berger also took that opportunity to let his hands do a little roaming from where they'd been resting so inconspicuously around Claude's chest. Blushing even more fiercely, Claude grabbed at his lover's wandering hands and pressed them firmly against his stomach where they couldn't cause much mischief.

Helen covered her mouth with her hand, apparently to cover her own laughter. When the two finally had themselves back under control, she commented, "My goodness... is he always like this? I mean... I gathered from the show that... Oh dear." Now it was her turn to blush, "You know what? Never mind. I don't think I want to know."

Claude watched her for a moment, stunned by how accepting she was being. A large part of him just wanted to let it slide and take it for the gift that it was, but a smaller, stronger part of him couldn't just leave it alone. Already regretting the words that were about to emerge and the self-destructive tendency that was making him say them, Claude asked the question, "Mom... not that I'm not grateful for it, but... how is it that you're OK with this?"

Ignoring Berger's almost panicked shushing noises from behind him and shaking off the hands that grasped at his shoulders and tried to cover his mouth for him, Claude leaned forward, "Mom... I need to know. Are you really OK with this? Can you really look me in the eye and tell me that you don't have a problem with the idea that I'm sleeping with another man?"

Helen's blush, which had only just calmed, once again flare hotly at that question, "Claude... I can't do that. You know I can't." At Claude's indrawn breath, she hastened to explain, "No mother can look their child in the eye and happily acknowledge that they are having sex... of _any_ kind." Eyes taking on a panicky glaze, she added, "To some part of me, you'll forever be two years old, toddling around the house in Superman pajamas. And two year olds shouldn't be having sex! With anyone. _Ever_."

A neat ducking of the question, but Claude found himself reluctant to push the issue. He recognized what his mother was doing with that bit of redirection. She was giving him an out, a way to just let this situation be what it was without turning it into a new source of pain. So, at his mother's entirely discomfited look and the way she now refused to meet his eyes, Claude reluctantly let go of the tension that had surged through his body at her initial words. Instead, he turned to look at Berger and deliberately played into his mother's ploy for banality, "Huh... Maybe you and she should talk. Of the three of us, I'm the only one that doesn't seem to understand that issue."

And Berger... dear Berger. He picked up on it, too. And to play into it in his own way, he threw Cloud into the fire without a single qualm. Snorting, he answered, "Yeah, that's because of the three of us, you're the only one who didn't know your 'child' as a two year old. You and Cloud didn't meet until he was fifteen. It's different."

Of course, Helen latched right on to that, "Wait just one minute, Claude Hooper Bukowski! I have a _grandson_? And you didn't **tell** me??"

And naturally, that shouted query echoed through the theatre in one of those rare moments of silence that descends upon a large group of conversing people. Claude blushed, Berger laughed and Cloud -- as prone to playing to an audience as his Uncle Berger -- shouted from the other side of the theatre, "Uncle Claude, don't make me come over there! I'm tired and I'm comfortable and I don't want to have to deal with your usual shenanigans tonight! Can't you just behave for once?"

At that, the original Tribe and all their accompanying children burst out laughing. Berger yelled back, "Don't you worry, Cloud! I've got your Uncle Claude well in hand!"

"That's what I'm afraid of! Don't think I've forgotten what happened during Act II!" Muttering darkly, Cloud extricated himself from Zack's embrace and started making his way over.

Claude's poor mother was now looking thoroughly confused. Taking pity on her, Berger explained, "Cloud's our friend Jeanie's son. He's never known his dad, but Jeanie's been in love with Claude his whole life. So, he grew up thinking of Claudio, here, like _he_ was his dad. When they finally met..." He shrugged, "Karma, man. Fate."

By this time, Cloud had reached the three of them and was standing over them with his arms crossed over his chest and an eyebrow raised. When no explanation was forthcoming he rolled his eyes and started tapping his foot, "I'm waiting..."

Helen laughed and got to her feet, holding out a hand to the young man, "Helen Bukowski. I'm Claude's mother. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

By the fifth word, Cloud's other eyebrow had joined the first in climbing up into his hairline, but he still took the offered hand and shook it, "Ma'am, I beg to differ. The pleasure is all _mine_ , I assure you." He then swept her an elaborate bow, "Claude Ryan, at your service."

Claude reached out a foot and tapped the younger man in the shin, "That's enough out of you. I realize we're in a theatre, but I'll thank you to remember that this is not a play. It's my life. Behave."

Eyes flashing with mischief, Cloud stood back up, "Hey, I worked hard tonight, I deserve to have a little fun."

"At my expense?" was Claude's answer.

Smirking, Cloud shrugged, "Well since it's your fault I had to work so hard..."

A snort of disbelief, "How is it _my_ fault? Your mother wrote the play and you're the one who decided -- against her wishes, no less -- that you were going to audition. How on Earth is any of this my fault?"

Settling down in the chair next to Claude's mother, Cloud just grinned, "For being such an angst bunny. _Damn_ , Uncle Claude. Being you for three _hours_ is exhausting. How on Earth have you managed it for 36 and a half years?"

As Berger burst out laughing behind him, Claude could only splutter, "For being such a... a... **what**?"

Face taking on a self-satisfied smirk, Cloud repeated, "An angst bunny. Adam and I coined the term sometime in the first week of rehearsals. Mom liked it and it kind of stuck." He shrugged, "You can't deny that it fits."

Before Claude could answer, his mother burst out laughing, tears threatening to leak from her eyes. When she managed to get herself under control, she looked up and shook a finger at him, "OK, you're right. Biological or not, he _is_ your son. Even _I_ can't deny the resemblance."

Unbelievably touched by that statement, Cloud smiled hesitantly at Claude's mother, "You really mean that?" It was understandable. After all, in addition to never having known his real father, Cloud had also never known a grandparent. Jeanie's parents had disowned her when she was pregnant with him and with his father gone from the picture long before he'd been born, he'd also never known _his_ parents.

Seeing the almost childlike hope in the boy's eyes, Helen bit back the teasing response she'd been about to make and raised a hand to his cheek to give it a soft pat, "I really mean that. I'd be honored to have you as a grandson." She then enfolded him in a gentle embrace.

Back on the steps, Berger cradled Claude against him and pressed a kiss to his temple, "Good day, Claudio?"

Claude let out a happy sigh and tilted his face upwards for another kiss. When Berger released his lips, Claude smiled, "The best, love. The best."

A rude snort interrupted the happy moment and both men turned narrowed eyes at its source. Cloud rolled his eyes and made a gesture in their direction, "You see what I mean? You can't take your eyes off them for a minute! It's not _right_ , I tell you! They don't even have the excuse of being teenagers, for Christ's sake!"

Deftly avoiding the swat that Claude aimed in his direction, Cloud gave the group a cheeky wave, "And on that note, I think I'll go wander back over to the other side of the theatre and find Zack."

Claude smirked, "By which he means that we've inspired him and he'd like to go do some making out of his own."

Whether it was the fact that Claude's teasing had been spot-on accurate or because his newly acknowledged grandmother was sitting right there, Cloud blushed beat red. Delighted, Berger poked the boy's leg, "What's with the blush, kiddo? Don't you know it's a parent's solemn right to embarrass their kids?"

Before Cloud could answer, Helen jumped back into the conversation, "Why, George, you are absolutely right. Claude, why don't I tell the story about that time at your father's thirtieth birthday party when we found you and your cousin--"

A completely panicked look on his face, Claude desperately waved his hands at his mother, "No! That's really not necessary! I'll back off, I swear! See? This is me, backing off! Please don't..." That last was a desperate whimper.

Cloud beamed a brilliant grin at Claude's mother, then bussed a gentle kiss against her cheek and wandered off. Berger, meanwhile, gave Helen an appraising look and a wide smirk, "Later. You and me will talk later."

At Helen's ready laughter, Claude spluttered, "Now that is **not** fair. Not when I can't retaliate by asking your parents embarrassing questions about you."

Berger stilled again behind him, then muttered, "Yeah... shame about that."

Biting off a curse, Claude turned to look at him, "You know, love... it's not too late to rectify that. It's not like they disowned you." Berger looked away, uncomfortable, like always, with this topic of conversation. Claude sighed, "Crissy said that they used to call on a regular basis to check up on you, you know. I'm sure she still has their phone number..."

Forcing a humorless laugh, Berger shook his head, "Not today, Claudio, OK? We'll talk about it some other time, all right?"

Unsatisfied with that answer, but unwilling to push, Claude let it go. A grim silence descended. Helen was the one who eventually got up the courage to break it, "So... Claude... I couldn't help but notice that you've regained some of your memory...?"

Snorting softly, Berger commented, "Out of the frying pan into the fire, eh, Claudio?"

Leaning back against his lover for support, Claude turned back to his mother, "You noticed correctly. I've regained just about all of it. I started getting it back within the first month that I was back in New York." Turning his gaze over to where Woof, Jeanie and Crissy were still cuddled up with each other on the other side of the stage, Claude's face relaxed into a smile, "Jeanie had a lot to do with that. She took me in when I got here, supported me until I was able to stand on my own two feet." His gaze turned melancholy, "I'm still sorry that I couldn't give her the only thing she ever wanted from me."

Kissing Claude's temple again, Berger said softly, "You love who you love, Claudio. Can't change that. Jeanie understands."

Helen sighed, "You know... Claude, I learned more about you in the last three hours than I have in the last 36 years. I have to say... it saddens me to think that in all this time, I hardly knew you at all. That you had this entire network of friends and loved ones that I never met... You kept your entire life from me. The you I got to know in Kansas... it wasn't you at all, was it?"

Shaking his head, Claude's said, "No, no it wasn't." Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, he finally continued, "It was hard for me then, Mom. Very hard. I didn't really know who I was, I only knew that I wasn't the person you and Dad wanted me to be. And I couldn't figure out how to _tell_ you that. Every time I tried, it ended in me and Dad screaming at each other and you crying. Eventually... I just stopped trying. I figured it was better to let you believe that I was the child you wanted... and not let you know that I was really someone else. The me that lived in Kansas... he was an extension of that thinking. He was made up of your hopes and dreams for me, nothing more. There was nothing -- or very little, anyway -- of _me_ in that person. I think I knew that it had to be that way... that it was the only way to make you happy."

Reaching out a hand to grasp one of his, Claude's mother shook her head, "I'm so sorry. We should never have forced that choice on you. It wasn't right and it wasn't fair to you. G-d... It's no wonder it took you so long to come back to yourself. Deep inside, you knew that around your father and I, you couldn't." Waving her other hand up at the stage, she said, "You really did want to be invisible, didn't you?"

Claude shrugged, "It was less painful that way. If I was invisible, it didn't matter who I was, because no one else would ever know. _I_ wouldn't ever have to know." A small smile broke through the melancholy, "But you know something, Mom? That's no way to live. If you're invisible, if you don't know who you are... how can anyone ever truly love you?" Turning to catch Berger's eye, he continued, "If you're always high, how can you recognize when people are reaching out to you?"

Berger snorted, "You can't. It's a shame we both had to learn that lesson the hard way." Sighing, he lamented, "Man, oh man, were we dumb when we were kids."

Claude laughed, "Yeah, I guess we were at that. I suppose the important thing, though, is that we eventually did learn from our mistakes, right Banana-Berger?"

Smiling, Berger planted a small peck of a kiss on Claude's lips, "Yeah, I guess so, Claudio. I guess so."

Giving Claude's hand one last squeeze, Helen released it, "My goodness. It's uncanny, really... watching you two. You're like a married couple."

With that comment, Claude smiled, "Someday, I hope we will be."

A teasing laugh interrupted whatever Claude's mother was about to say in response, "Yeah, and in the meantime they're getting in all the practice they possibly can, so they'll be sure to get it right when the time comes. Though, for the record, guys... married couples don't make out as much as you do. Just saying."

"Georgie!" At Sheila's mortified exclamation all three turned to look at her and she offered them a pained smile in response, "Sorry, sorry... Georgie, don't you think _you_ owe them an apology, too?"

Her daughter, on the other hand, merely smirked and said, "What for? It's true, isn't it?"

When Sheila looked like she might be about to go off on a lecture of monumental proportions, Berger just caught her eye and shrugged. She sighed, immediately deflating from her righteous indignation, "Oh... fine. I suppose you do have a point."

Georgie's smirk widened, "Though now that I think about it... based on the way you and Dad go at it, maybe married couples _do_ make out that often..."

"Georgie!!"

Berger leapt up from where he was sitting to wrap his arms around Sheila and prevent her from chasing after her daughter as the girl raced back to the other side of the theatre. Claude was too busy laughing to offer any assistance. Berger pulled a fuming Sheila back against his chest and placed a soothing kiss on top of her head, "Easy, Sheila... Easy. You know she's just trying to get a rise out of you."

Letting out an irritated huff, Sheila grumped, "Yeah. I guess you would know, wouldn't you, Banana-Berger?"

Placing one last kiss on her temple, Berger released her, "Of course I would. And it's your own damned fault for taking the bait every time. You're just too fun to tease!"

When she turned around she promptly smacked the younger man on the arm, "Jerk. And here I was coming over to deliver some good news. See if I ever do that for you, again."

At that point, Claude rose from his seat on the stairs and walked over to the other two. Taking Sheila's hands in his, he pulled her close and kissed her forehead. Berger then curled around her from behind, arms wrapping around her stomach. Glancing back and forth between Claude's gentle smile and Berger's self-satisfied grin, she sighed, "I don't know why I even bother. You two still have me so firmly wrapped around your fingers that I'll _never_ get myself fully extricated."

Claude just leaned over and kissed her cheek, eyes twinkling and mischievous smile firmly in place, "Oh, you know you love it."

Snorting, she disentangled herself from the two of them, "No doubt. Otherwise there's no way in hell I'd put up with either of you."

Berger walked back around her to wrap himself around Claude, looking happier and more settled than he had in a long time. Something about being able to indulge the ties between them without the pressure of trying to make it be what it had once been... it was wonderfully liberating. All three knew that it wouldn't go beyond casual kissing and touching, but even that casual contact brought with it a sense of renewal. Sheila might never have been the central piece that held their trio together, but she'd been an important part and had been sorely missed... even though neither man had wanted to admit that initially. Claude reached out a hand to her and she sighed but came willingly enough to curl up against him. He asked, "So, what good news where you coming to deliver?"

Sheila looked up at him and smiled, "Me, Suzanne and Dionne were talking and we've decided to have a party."

Claude twitched, "A party...? Sheila it's almost 1 AM, already. I can't speak for you, but I'm not used to staying out until 5, anymore."

Rolling her eyes, Sheila clarified, "Not _tonight_. Tomorrow. We're all going to meet in Washington Square Park and have a picnic. Say around 3 PM?"

Claude frowned, "But doesn't Jeanie have another show then?"

Nodding, Sheila answered, "She does. But I figure we'll be there for a while and she and the cast can join in when the show's over. That'll give the Tribe a few hours to catch up without any kiddies but our own underfoot and asking a million questions." Turning to look at Claude's mother, she added quietly, "And that'll give you some time to spend alone with your mother before you drag her into the full insanity that is our Tribe."

Helen's eyes widened, "I... I would never think to intrude..."

Sheila waved her hand in dismissal, "Nonsense. You came here to reconnect with Claude... to get to know your son. You can't do that without getting to know the rest of his family, too. If nothing else, tonight should have shown you that."

Ducking her head, voice quiet, Helen said, "I... I don't know what to say. I expected that you would all be angry with me, would want nothing to do with me. After all, I'm the reason you thought he was dead all those years."

Sheila pulled away from Claude and Berger to sit on the stairs across from Claude's mother. Having also expected Sheila to be angry, Claude was extremely interested in hearing her response. Sheila took Helen's hand into hers, "I was. For many years, I was. And many of the other Tribe members are bound to be. I won't lie to you about that. But speaking for myself... I have a new perspective on why you did what you did and so I think I understand it." When Helen looked up, Sheila smiled a sad smile, "I'm a mother, too, Mrs. Bukowski. I may not agree that you made the right choice, but I can't deny that I understand why you made it." She turned that smile on Claude and reached out her other hand to grasp his, "Ultimately, you did it to protect your son... to keep him safe. And I can at least respect that, in spite of the pain that resulted." Turning back to Claude's mother, she said, "So, I've decided that I'll do what I can to encourage peace between you and the Tribe, because I think Claude's suffered enough... don't you?"

Overwhelmed by Sheila's words, Helen could only nod. Claude, on the other hand, used his grip on Sheila's hand to pull her firmly back into his and Berger's embrace. Hoarsely, he said, "I love you, Sheila. You have no idea how much."

Berger added in his quiet two cents, "That goes double for me, gorgeous."

Smiling softly, Sheila kissed them both soundly on the lips before pulling out the group embrace, "You just watch it, boys. You keep this up, you just might entice me into a divorce..." At the twinned, wide-eyed looks she received, she just gave them both a broad wink, "Well, in that case, I'll see you tomorrow at 3, OK?" Once she'd collected an affirmation from each of them, she smiled and headed off to pass that along to her co-conspirators.

Claude then turned to his mother and, needing to pull back from the intensity of the moment, asked brusquely, "Where are you staying?"

Also eager to get onto a less emotional subject, she answered a little too quickly herself, "With Jim and Sally Holden."

Raising an eyebrow, Claude asked, "Our old neighbors? In Flushing?"

Helen gave him a polite smile, "Just because we didn't tell you we'd lived in New York doesn't mean we cut off all contact. Sally and I were good friends when you were younger. We've kept in touch."

Frowning, Claude said, "But how are you going to get back there? The subway? This late?" Crossing his arms over his chest, he said, "I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that."

Helen sighed and patted his arm, "I _have_ taken those subways before, Claude."

"Yes... but they were safer 15 years ago. Now," his eyes took on a worried look, "They aren't as much. I'm not thrilled with the idea of putting you on the subway alone and with no one to walk you to the Holden's when you get to Flushing."

"So, what would you suggest, then, Claude?" was her answer.

Eyes meeting Berger's for a moment of silent communication, Claude reached a decision, "You could stay with us. If... if you like."

Helen was torn. She clearly would have loved to do exactly that, but... "As much as I would love to, Claude, all of my things are already at the Holden's. For tonight it just isn't practical." Holding up a hand to forestall Claude's objections, she said, "A compromise. Why don't we go back to your apartment and call a cab to take me back to Flushing for tonight. Then tomorrow... we'll see if you'd still like me to stay with you after spending the whole day in my company. If the answer is 'Yes,' I would be honored." When Claude looked like he might object, Helen's eyes narrowed, "Claude Hooper Bukowski, I would say that this is an eminently fair compromise, wouldn't you?"

Eyes widening at the snap in his mother's voice, Claude cleared his throat, "Well, if you put it that way... I suppose I would."

Berger snorted, "Man, you are _so_ whipped."

Turning a grumpy look on his partner, Claude said, "Oh yeah? I'd like to see you do better. Besides... it's not fair. No one can retaliate because no one knows your middle name."

Smirking, Berger laughed, "Yeah, and no one's gonna. I'm not stupid enough to hand over a weakness like that. Remember?" Grin widening, he took on the prim posture of someone quoting another, "'You're as smart as any of us...'"

Claude let out a groan that covered the rest of Berger's statement, "You are _really_ making me regret pointing that out to you, you know?" At his mother's look of confusion, Claude just shook his head, "It's a long story. And really... you don't want to know."

Before she could get a chance to respond that she actually did, Claude was relieved to be distracted by Jeanie's whistle. Berger leaned over to whisper, "You're going to be so sorry you showed her how to do that..."

Sighing, Claude said, "Yeah... I know."

Once Jeanie had everyone's attention, she started talking, "I just wanted to say a few words to everyone before we all left for the night. First to the cast Tribe... you guys... you were _phenomenal_. I don't have the words to fully express how proud I am of each and every one of you. If you manage to maintain even half the energy and emotion you brought to tonight's show at the rest of our performances, we're going to enjoy a long and successful run here on Broadway."

When the cheering died down, she continued, "And to the half of the original Tribe that showed up unannounced tonight, I'd just like to say how unbelievably thrilled I am that you all got here. I think I can speak for our half of the Tribe in saying that we've missed you all and we're so glad that you found us! And even though I'm annoyed that you're starting the picnic without me tomorrow, I think it's an awesome idea... and we should make this a regular occurrence. At least once a year. Don't you think?"

The cheers to that speech were even louder than to the first. When they all quieted again, Jeanie's face relaxed into a soft smile, "And to the rest of you -- and I think you know who you are -- I hope tonight met your expectations. There was so much I wanted you to see... so much I knew you'd forgotten." Walking across the stage to look down at Claude and Berger, her eyes started to shine, "I wanted to remind you that you are us and we are you... never-ending and beautiful together just the way we are. A part of the universe and yet... free. And so very... **very** loved."

Claude held up a hand to Jeanie who grasped it and climbed down off the stage into his and Berger's embrace. Voice rough, but raised loud enough to be heard by everyone else in the theatre, Claude answered, "Then you accomplished what you set out to do, Jeanie... and _I_ don't have the words to properly express my gratitude for it. I won't forget again. I swear it. Thank you."

Jeanie raised her face to look up at his, tears shining in her eyes, "Thank _you_ , Claudio. Thank you..."

Clearing her throat, Sheila reluctantly interrupted the moment. "Jeanie... I know I was hesitant when you told me earlier about," she waved her arm around the theatre, "All of this. I know I can't take back words already spoken, but I'd like to give you a few new ones that, hopefully, will take the sting out of them." Once she had Jeanie's full attention, Sheila continued, "I'm proud of you, Jeanie. And I'm proud to be part of this: this Tribe, this show... **this**. And I'm proud to have my name on it. In fact, I wouldn't have it any other way. And you'd _better_ have a long and successful run on Broadway, because I intend to bring my husband and --when they're old enough -- my other two kids to see it!"

Berger smirked, "And if he doesn't like it, you can divorce him and come live with us!"

Eyes wide, Claude spluttered at him, "Don't you think you ought to discuss that with your fiance, first?"

That exclamation started the entire Tribe murmuring in response. Of course, it was Kelly who got the question out into the open, "Hold on a minute! Uncle Berger has a fiance??" Storming up to them from where she'd been standing with Georgie and her father, she got right up into Berger's face, a look of righteous anger on hers, "When the hell did _this_ happen?? What about Uncle Claude? Hasn't he been through enough this year without you skirting around behind his back? I am **not** OK with this!"

At the only partially-mock scared look on Berger's face, Claude started to laugh. Kelly continued to harangue the other man until Claude got himself under control and patted her on the shoulder to get her attention, "Kelly! Kelly, calm down. First off, Berger isn't cheating on me. Secondly, this happened just before the show so we didn't have a chance to tell anyone just, yet."

Kelly's eyes widened at that statement and, already putting two and two together to get five, made one of those lighting-fast shifts in attitude that she was famous for and began to bounce on her toes in anticipation. Woof, Crissy, Hud, Dionne, Georgie, Cloud and Zack pushed their way to the front of the group to cluster around them, their own eyes wide in excitement.

Finally, Berger threw his hands up, "Oh, good grief. You could make a three hour tale out of a limerick." Wrapping one arm firmly around Claude's waist, he pulled the other man close before turning back to the rest of their audience, "What Claudio is trying to explain is that I asked him to marry me before the show and he said, 'Yes.'" Turning back to Claude, he smirked, "See, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Whatever Claude's response would have been, it was lost in the thunderous set of cheering and applause that erupted from everyone else in the theatre. Then, always one to play to an audience, Berger's smirk widened and he took firm hold of Claude to bend him backwards in a kiss so overblown and romantic it would have done a hero in a harlequin novel proud.

There would be time enough to worry about the details, time enough to figure out how on Earth they could accomplish what they wanted to do legally... time enough to get ready for this fight. But for once, with the cheers of his friends and family ringing loudly in his ears, Claude just let himself go to enjoy the moment... and he couldn't have planned a more perfect moment if he'd tried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** And now for some chibi silliness! And boy, oh boy, is it silly tonight. @_@;;;
> 
> Claude: ^_^
> 
> R-chan: *pokepoke* So I was right?
> 
> Claude: ^_^
> 
> R-chan: *laughs* I guess I'll take that as a "Yes."
> 
> Claude: ^_^
> 
> Berger: *smirk* You know... I kind of like him like this. All blissed out and relaxed. Reminds me of when we used to get him high.
> 
> R-chan: *scuffs feet along the ground* *mumbles*
> 
> Berger: *eyebrow twitch* What was that?
> 
> R-chan: *mumbles louder*
> 
> Berger: *laughs* Did you just say, "Georgie helped me make the brownies?"
> 
> R-chan: *blush* *scuffs some more*
> 
> Berger: And where might these brownies be, exactly?
> 
> Claude: *lifts up a hand and points in the direction of the kitchen* ^_^
> 
> Berger: *snickers* He is gonna be _so_ pissed when he comes down... you do realize that, right?
> 
> R-chan: *smirks* Not if you drag him off to have sex first!
> 
> Berger: *eg* Have I mentioned before that I like how you think?
> 
> R-chan: *curtsies* *dimples* Once or twice. *makes shooing motions*
> 
> Berger: *grabs Claude's still lifted hand and drags him off*
> 
> Claude: ^_________^
> 
> Questions, comments, apricots?


End file.
